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DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to vMi 

District Clerks' Office. 

Be it remembered, that on the thirtieth clay of June, 
A. D. 1825, in the forty-seventh year of the indepen- 
dence of the United .States of America, Selleck Osborn 
ind Thomas Rowe, of the said district, have deposited 
in this Office the Title of a Book, the Right whereof 
they claim as Proprietors, in the words following, to vjit: 

c: Poems, Moral, Sentimental and Satirical." — By 
Sellece Osborn. 

In Conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United 
s, intitled, "An Act for the encouragement of Learning-, 
by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Au- 
thors and Proprietors of such Copies, during- the Times there- 
in mentioned;*' and also to an Act intitled, "An Act sup- 
plementary to an Act, intitled, an Act for the encouragement 
of Learning-, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts and 
Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies during 
the times therein mentioned ; and extending the benefits 
! Arts of Designing, Engraving and Etching His- 
...' andothei Prints/* 

JOHN W. DAVIS, 
Clerk of the District of Maxactw&ifa. 



In appearing before the Public at full length, as the 
author of a volume, I have not been able to persuade 
myself to dispense with the established form of making 
my respects to the good company whose attention I 
have solicited. I am not fond of ceremony ; but as 
a degree of ceremony has become a part of social law, 
I will conform to usage with the best grace and deco- 
rum in my power, by a few remarks, on introducing 
the collected offspring of my heart and brain to the 
public, on whose liberality and indulgence they must 
lean for countenance and support. 

I feel encouraged in addressing the American public, 
v\hen I recognise many individuals, who have kindly 
noticed these little stray ones, and cherished and en- 
tertained them with true literary hospitality ; but I 
also feel a diffidence in presenting them collectively to 
a promiscuous community, among whom may be some 
of those who would maliciously point out the plain and 
the awkward (for such there are, undoubtedly) and 
neglect the fair and the intelligent (of which I hope 
some may be found.) — Such as they are, their legitim'a- 



IV 



cy is unquestionable — their merits are submitted to the 
candor of the public. 

This writing of prefaces and introductions is a more 
serious business than I was aware of when I sat down 
to hold what I intended for a familiar chat with my 
readers. — It is so difficult to avoid actual egotism or 
apparent affectation in such a case, that I have been 
half determined to omit the article altogether ; but still 
the imputation of affected singularity might-lie against 
me. — I have therefore made up my mind to say what 
I think necessary to be said, in that spirit of plain 
frankness and candor, by which one never loses, except 
in matters of traffic and speculation. 

In presenting this volume to the public, my princi- 
pal apprehension is, that the selections which have 
been occasionally exhibited, and the flattering com- 
ments which my literary countrymen, in their kind 
zeal, have made thereon, may have wrought the ex- 
pectation of my patrons and readers to a height which- 
the merit of the whole work will not reach ; and that 
disappointment may follow, and the reaction of feeling 
underrate me as much as I may have been overrated 
by the partiality of friendship, and favorable prepos- 
session. 



I am well aware that some of the juvenile produc- 
tions included in this collection, are crude in style and 
manner, though they may not be altogether deficient in 
matter. They are designated by dates annexed. I 
had intended to dress them anew for their holiday ex- 
hibition, but the pleasure of meeting them again en- 
tirely diverted my attention from their apparel, and 
on the second thought I deemed their clean and plain 
dress most becoming their character. For their sake 
and my own, I hope my friends and readers will con- 
descend to give them welcome, as they are. 

Surprise has often been manifested, when I have 
truly stated, that I never, except by mere accident, 
kept copies of these occasional productions ; and this 
surprise was very natural, for there are not many in 
society, whatever their latent talents may be, who have 
indulged themselves in the greatest of all luxuries — the 
excursions of the heart and the mind — the play of 
thought and sentiment — the rambles and promenades, 
the soaring and flitting of Fancy through indefinite 
space, independent of time and circumstance. When, 
after such an exquisite recreation, one is obliged to 
rest on the surface of the earth, and come to the gross 
concern of plain paper and ink, and metre and rhyme— 
a sense of degradation, if not disgust, induces one to 
*1 



VI 



hasten the scrawl out of his sight and memory, until he 
meets it again in future, with all that is spiritual about 
it, and without its gross associations. 

This will account for what might seem to be culpa- 
ble carelessness and indifference on the part of the 
author, and a reprehensible neglect of his productions. 
In truth there is something so formally dull in the ex- 
hibition of a fair copy book of one's occasional effusions, 
kept with all the cold deliberation of a business jour- 
nal — something so anti -poetical — that I never see one 
without conceiving a strong prepossession against the 
genius of the writeiv 

Many of these articles were written between the age 
of sixteen, and the age of maturity and its attendant 
cares, when the vexations of precarious business subdue, 
in a great degree, all the feelings and reflections which 
have a poetical tendency. 

My earliest productions were those of hours stolen 
from repose, transcribed in disguise with a trembling 
hand, and secretly deposited with palpitating diffi- 
dence, so as to elude, for a long time, not only detec- 
tion but suspicion. — Their acceptance and publication 
satisfied me ; and as the idea of republication or collec- 
tion, never occurred to me, I had no motive to keep 



vii 

copies. Thus I 3iave lost many ; and such as I have 
reclaimed have been collected with much labor and 
considerable expense. 

Against the advice of some sanguine friends, I have 
discarded more, probably, than this volume contains ; 
some on account of local and temporary politics — some 
on account of my own dissatisfaction with their literary 
character ; and although my self-criticism has been 
somewhat rigid, I am not without apprehension that 
impartial critics will adjudge that more pruning would 
have been proper. Under the head of Fragments and 
Extracts, I have inserted selections from mixed pro- 
ductions ; which extracts I could not find it in my 
heart to throw aside, as I deemed their moral and pat- 
riotic, and perhaps their poetical features, to be worth 
preserving. 

Over and above ordinary considerations, one of the 
strongest motives which have induced me to the labor 
and expense of this compilation, is self protection- 
protection against the torturing mutilations with which 
the newspaper editors and printers have vexed me. — ■■ 
As an instance in point, among many others, the 
stanzas entitled " The Treble Voice," were, by some 
strange hallucination, inserted in one of the newspa- 
pers under the head of " The Terrible Voice !" I deem 



viii 

no labor too great to avert such mortifications. I can- 
not consent that, in case my effusions survive me, (and 
if they do not they will be short lived indeed) they 
should appear so disfigured and distorted as to make 
my family and friends blush at their appearance. 

Among the many discouraging circumstances which 
beset an author while publishing a volume of poetry, is 
the perversion of taste which is too prevalent, not only 
in Europe, but, as a matter of course, in our own coun- 
try. The swelling sublimity of Homer and Milton, 
the earnest and zealous exhortations of Young, and the 
tender and amiable effusions of Goldsmith, are acknowl- 
edged by all, but generally neglected ; epecially when 
a new novel or poem, coined by the stamp of fashion, 
or rather dressed in the mode of the day, comes bust- 
ling into the social circle, and at once dissipates all that 
is serious, solid, grave, and truly interesting. — I have 
made, in my own reflections, many similes on this 
point. Sometimes I have compared it to a scene of de- 
votion, when the principal personage has not only 
wrought his hearers, but himself, into that tone of 
thought and feeling which so well becomes the occasion 
— when the speaker, if not inspired, is at least prepared 
and disciplined for his holy purpose— when his pious 
audience are so softened and mellowed as to receive 
and retain the slightest touch of his eloquence — when 



IX 



this deep and calm solemnity is interrupted by the rat- 
tling equipage and ostentatious entrance of a poetical 
nobleman, or a popular novel-weaver — and when all 
that is amiable and substantially pious is suspended or 
lost in the wonder and curiosity excited by the momen- 
tary pageant. 

This perversion of moral taste, like that of the nat- 
ural appetite, induces a hankering for whatever is high- 
ly seasoned and pungent. The plain, homely and 
wholegome fare which satisfies the healthy stomach, 
becomes insipid to the morbid palate. Nothing short 
of the extravagant ravings of a Maturin, the cynical 
moroseness of a Byron, or the intoxicating witcheries 
of the " Great Unknown" Novelist, will satisfy our 
modern readers ; and by a very natural consequences 
the gruel and barley water of every -day verse makers 
is resorted to when the high excitement has subsided. 

Whatever estimation may be generally formed of the 
merit of mere metre and rhyme — whatever genius may 
be supposed requisite for this mechanical display of 
chosen words and syllables — it is mere show and sound, 
unless it has condensed matter and pointed meaning. — • 
I have often read long pieces of poetry, pleased with 
the smoothness and delicacy of the verse, and still more 
pleased with the expectation of coming at last to the 



aim and object of the writer, but in vain — it was all a 
blank—and a kind of melancholy disappointment en- 
sued, such as one feels when he finds folly and igno- 
rance under the mask of a beautiful and promising 
face. 

I am not the proper judge to decide whether some 
of my own poetical exercises may or may not come 
within the range of this censure. But one thing I am 
sure of.— I never sat down to write when I had not a 
strong pressure of moral or patriotic sentiment. Wheth- 
er the expression of such sentiment was adequate to 
the design, I respectfully submit to the reader. I can 
conscientiously present this volume to the most delicate 
female ; I can bequeath it to my family as a fire -side 
recreation, with no other diffidence than such as may 
accrue from doubtful talents. 

Lest the besetting sin of egotism and garrulity should 
grow upon me unawares, I take a hasty leave of my 
readers, and leave my first born volume to their kind- 
ness and indulgence. 



POEMS 



BY 



SELLECK OSBORN, 



NEW-ENGLAND 



& 



DESCRIPTIVE AND NARRATIVE. 



Blest be tke land, where first my infant eyes 
Operi'd to verdant fields and genial skies — 
Where wanton Childhood all its pranks confess'd, 
While Education bared her ample breast ; 
Where the first sigh of ardent Youth I drew, 
Where Manhood all its holiest pleasures knew, 
Where kindred forms, releas'd from care and toil. 
Rest their worn limbs beneath their native soil. 

From northern Europe's frozen regions, where 
Man's love or hatred emulates the bear — 
From middle Europe's pedantry and lore, 
From our paternal island's rugged shore— 
From Asia's prurient and voluptuous throng—* 
From Grecian isles, conspicuous in song — 
From Afric's sterile or luxuriant soil — 
Trom oceans, where adventurous seamen toil — ■ 

9, 



14 



From mid- Atlantic's rock — the hero's grave— 
From shores that meet Pacific's farthest wave— - 
From halcyon isles, like dimples, on its face, 
Where fertile Nature teems with wealth and grace °, 
From southern regions, emulouslj brave, 
Where Spain's regenerate sons their banners wave— 
From Mississippi's and Missouri's shores, 
Whence enterprise her well-earn'd treasure pours — 
From Alabama's to Virginia's plain, 
Where hospitality and honor reign— 
From all (elsewhere) in nature or in art— 
From all that, elsewhere, cheers or stings the heart- 
To thee, New -England, my affection tends ; 
To thee my fondest recollection bends. 

Nurse of my earliest hope, my ripest joy ! 
What theme more grateful could my verse employ? 
Thy copious breast is bounteous, if not fair— 
My heart, unwean'd, still clings and nestles there. 
Though doom'd to exile by stern Fate's decree, 
Still Memory and Mind can visit thee. 

Borne on Imagination's buoyant wings, 
Again I view thy groves, thy hills, thy springs 5 
Thy coy, reluctant, but relenting soil, 
Woo'd and subdu'd by persevering toil — ^ 



15 



Thy various coast ; where frowns the rocky shore , 
Where the rude breakers beat with ceaseless roar ; 
Or where the lazy billows slowly reach 
And gambol on the far extended beach — 
Where islands in fantastic groups are seen, 
And pigmy promontories, crown'd with green ; 
Where rise the hulks that float on distant seas, 
In tropic climes that scorch, or climes that freeze, 
Whose prows, directed by each hardy crew, 
The giant whale or valued cod pursue- 
Where many a fearless tar was early bred, 
The light of victory 'round our flag to spread ; 
To scan all climes and visit every realm— 
And o'er earth's surface guide the subject helm. 

Now to the eagle's element we rise ; 
Would we were gifted with an eagle's eyes, 
To view, delighted, from our loftiest flight, 
Our lov'd, our parent land, with perfect sight. 

There, on that consecrated rock, our sires 
Kindled their own and Freedom's holier fires ; 
While on a firmer rock their faith reclin'd, 
In pious hope, to Heaven's care resign'd ; 
Midst howls of beasts, and man's more savage yell, 
Before their blows the mighty forest fell. 






16 



Whence sprang the hardy race, by peril -tried. 
Whose blood within my veins I feel with pride J 
Who, firm in council, dauntless in the field, 
Beneath Oppression's weight disdain'd to yield ; 
W T ho first before a despot's legions stood, 
First pour'd the rich libation of their blood ; 
To the stern front of power defiance hurl'd, 
And to fair Freedom gave a new-born world, 



Now from my lofty altitude I view 
The adjacent state- — diminitive, 'tis true- 
But rich with art's and nature's various wealthy 
Richer with female beauty, and with health. 
Now to the north I take my airy flight, 
And on the elevated dome alight ; 
(The gay metropolis beneath my eye ;) 
I see the sons of toil their labor ply ; 
The speculators, sedulous for gain, 
The merchants, bargaining with anxious pain ; 
The mariner, who spreads or furls the sail, 
Whose sonorous voice comes mellow'd by the gale. 
The umbrageous promenade, the city's pride ; 
Where beauteous forms, like kindred graces glide ; 
The sloping lawn adjacent, too, is seen, 
With nature's carpet cloth'd, of lovely green, 



17 



The ranks that glitter, emulous of war, 
And, without danger, mock the battle's roar, 
The isles that cluster in the distant view, 
Like Em'ralds, in relief, on fields of blue ; 
The golden crested spires, whose giant forms 
Reflect the sun-beams, or defy the storms ; 
The bustling town, its ratt'ling noise and din, 
Whose out-door clamor drowns the voice within. 
Whose streets irregularly wind their way, 
With men of whims more devious still than they ; 
'Mongst whose few foibles many virtues dwell ; 
Scene of my mingled joys and cares, farewell ! 

Once more I mount on fancy's wing, and spy, 

The scenery, as a map beneath my eye ; 

From the fam'd cape, whose curv'd, fantastic form. 

Resists, unmov'd, the oriental storm, 

More northward still, variety I seek, 

Where the .White Mountain rears its lofty peak s 

Uplifts its summit with majestic pride, 

The stranger's wonder, and the seaman's guide. 

Now o'er alternate hills and plains I speed,. 
Passing a virtuous race as I proceed ; 

*2 



18 



Now in plain grandeur rises to my view, 
The Mountains cloth'd in ever-verdant hue, 
Whose summits are with noble forests crown'd, 
And on whose breasts the teeming fields abound t 
Delightful scene ! fain would I hover near, . 
And witness innocence and virtue here *, 
But fancy's wings are weary ; and I come 
To recreate them at my early Home ; 

soothing word, so pregnant with delight ; 

Blest Home ! how dear — how welcome to my sight, 

1 lay my aching head on thy kind breast, 
And in thy soft embraces seek for rest ! 

THE THANKSGIVING-. 

But, Home, intrinsic as it's blessings are, 
From time and place acquir'd delight receives, 
Belov'd New-England ! 'tis thy privilege 
To multiply th' enjoyments that attend 
The fireside meetings of domestic life, ■ 
When prayer and praise in mingled sounds arise. 
And festal odours fill the ambient skies. 

Forbid, my Memory, that I should forget 
The spot belov'd, where last, in happier days- 



19 



1 feasted thus. — An emigrant in wilds, 
Far to the west, through tedious years I toil'd ; 
And tho' health- bless'd me, and my labor prosper'd ; 
How often did my anxious bosom yearn 
. For the dear scene of early industry, 
For kindred faces that once smil'd on me ! 
Meanwhile, with stinted and strict self-denial, 
The means I hoarded to enjoy, once more, 
The comforts of that long remember'd roof, 
Homely, indeed, but still rever'd and lov'd ; 
Remote from scenes where rival knavery striveSj 
Where Poverty is harness'd, and Wealth drives, 

* * * * * * 

Through chilly mists of latter autumn, I, 
With all my dear ones, o'er the mountain's path, 
And the dull plains, through tedious roads of sand. 
Or near the precipice, whose lofty verge 
With sudden giddiness confused the head— 
My toilsome march pursu'd ; and as the hope 
Of home invigorates the seaman's arm, 
And rouses all his courage in the storm, 
So the dear goal of all my hardships led 
My steps, unwearied, to my journey's end. 

At length, like Pisgah's prospect, to my eye 
The vale appear'd ; and tho' with hurried hand 



20 



The herald of stem Winter had disrob'd 

The trees, and cloth'd the fields in frosty grey, 

Yet, recollecting all their former bloom, 

Their fragrant freshness and their teeming boughs, 

I lov'd them not the less, though tempests rude 

Had shaken them, and left their limbs expos'd 

To winter's adverse and relentless power. 

* * * * * $ 

The sun was down ; and the young twilight serv'd 
To soften, not obscure, as I approach'd 
Familiar objects, joyfully remember'd.- 
Dear valley ! relic of the golden age, 
If such an age did ever bless the earth — - 
How oft, disgusted with the rude frontier, 
Where hardy men are boisterous as brave ; 
Or with the city's bowing, simpering throng, 
Veiling with smiles their cold and selfish hearts ; 
From these how often I have long'd to fly, 
And seek refreshment on thy peaceful lap, 
Thy mild simplicity again to view, 
Thy social justice, which nor wealth nor 'pride 
Can sway, when merit comes in humblest form. 

* * * *■ o £ 
Now came we to the ample pile of wood, 

For winter's comfort stor'd ; the poultry near,* 



21 



Were struggling hard their usual perch to reach ; 
The aged watch-dog's interdental growl, 
Doubting, jet half remembering his friends, 
Was follow'd by what words cannot describe^ 
The meeting of long separated hearts, 
Its sweet confusion and its clamorous joy ! 
Here a lov'd sire, respected and rever'd 
For virtue — though comparatively poor — » 
Here a fond mother, notable as kind- 
Here elder sisters, with their spouses, were 
Surrounded by a brisk and healthy brood—- 
A manly brother with toil -hardened hand — • 
And junior sisters, flush'd with ripen'd youth— 
And a strange guest, with mutilated face^ , 
Warmly invited, had consented here 
To share the feast of the ensuing day — > 
All here assembled round the evening fire, 
And with that frank sincerity that cheers 
A home like this, the joyful, merry group 
Crack'd, now the unctuous nut^ and now a joke ^ 
And feasted on the orchard's various wealth ; 
'Till the good father, ev'n with joy fatigued, 
The cheerful clamor hush'd with closing prayer. 
* * % * . ■* * 

The hour has come, when, in their best attire, 
The happy, grateful throng the house attend^ 



22 



Where worship consecrates the day of thanks 
Thanks for the finish'd harvest, and for all 
The blessings of indulgent Providence ; 
Thanks, even for affliction's chastening rod.. 
Thanks to a frowning or a smiling God ! 



In the old fashion'd parlour next we met, 
Humble, 'tis true, but spacious, neat and clean ; 
And if a heavenly foretaste e'er was given 
To undeserving mortals, it was there ! 
There conversation, unrestrain'd and sweet, 
Reminded kindred souls of days long past, 
While little ones their sportive gambols play'd, 
And climb'd on the delighted grandsire's knees, 
Whose every smile of pleasure seem'd design'd 
New channels to afford for pleasure's tears. 
And when, for festivals like this reserv'd, 
The strong, but temperate draught, reviv'd his heart, 
With renovated youth his eyes appear 'd, 
When various tales of Freedom's war he told, 
Of pleasant pranks, of dangers, or of toil. 

The table now, with ample viands spread, 
Call'd for a blessing through the good old man. 



n 



Who fervently the pious task perform'd. 
And all (with appetites) can well conceive. 
Without description's aid, the feasting scene. 

*■ * * * -* •* 

And now a pang of recollection heav'd 
The bosom of the venerable sire ; 
For one belov'd ; whose face the previous year 
Had cheer'd the annual festival ; but whom 
The deep tempestuous ocean had devour'd. 
The name of W t illiam trembled on his lips ; 
When at his side the stranger guest appear'd, 
And to his parent bent the filial knee ; 
I am thy William- — that long absent son, 
By pirates captur'd, mangled and deform'd, 
Confin'd in caverns •; but, by heaven's decree, 
Restor'd to country, home, to friends, to thee ! 
# * * * * * 

Now, my God ! the pious father cry'd, 
" My cup of blessings overflows" indeed ; 
I thank'd thee, even when I thought thou hadst 
Withdrawn my darling from this wicked world, 
But now thy goodness overwhelms my heart ; 
0, give me grace to thank thee as I ought. 

A slender form now in the scene appear'd ; 
■'"Twas she who long had mourn'd a husband lost, 



24 



Her eyes enlivened by the sudden joy, 

Her features glowing with long absent bloom, 

O, welcome, even as thou art, my love, 

They have not maim'd thy Mind, nor alienated 

What most I prize, thy faithful, constant Heart ; 

She said, and clasp'd him to her throbbing breast. 

This was a day of thanks indeed ; and clos'd 
With prayer and praises to the God of Mercy. 



25 
MR. CRICKET; 

OR, ONE WAY TO RAISE THE WIND. 

A gentleman, for lie assum'd as much, 

Tho' long the world had ceas'd to think him such, 
SufFer'd the very common curse 
Which many feel— -an empty purse ! 

And scarcely could procure his bread and salt ; 
'Twas bad, you know — but what was worse, 

His thrifty neighbors said, 'twas his own fault. 

But it is not my business now to pause 
And tediously investigate the cause ; 
It is enough that, (whether saint or sinner) 
He had not means to set a dinner. 



o 



A lady, cf immeasurable wealth, 

Had lost a diamond ring — supposed by stealth— 

And, in the absence of her lord, 

Offer'd a generous reward, 

And pledg'd her honor, which must bind her, 

To thank as well as pay the finder. 

Now this poor gentleman, whose name was Cricket, 
His stomach, like a dun, incessant urging, 



26 



No obstacle would stick at, 

To quiet it with gorging. 
Thought he, I must be still a hungry lounger, or 
Do something, in the character of conjurer — 

The lady in her search seems sedulous, 

And if she equally is credulous, 
I know my part, and do conceive a trick 
Which, to be sure may cost me many a kick ; 

But by some means I must administer 
Some nutriment to this poor maw, 

And though my plan be somewhat sinister, 
Necessity obeys no law ; 

The ring, indeed, I can't restore, 

But I'll have chance to eat once more. 

Without delay he took occasion 
To ply the lady with persuasion ; 

Indeed, so well he play'd his part. 
That she believ'd, .perhaps — or feign'd 
To think the ring might be obtain'd 
By dint of magic art. 

Give me but three successive dinners, madam.. 
Your best — and, as the sole reward, I ask it, 
And shortly after I have had 'em, 
Your jewel shall be in its casket; 



27 



The lady condescendingly comply'd, 
(Her curiosity we need not mention) 

She had some reason that he should be try'd, 
And wish'd to know the truth of his pretension. 



Three waiting servants had combined 
To do the mischief, and divide the spoil, 

Among them they the jewel had purloin'd, 
And thus occasional this turmoil. 

This Mr. Cricket was not known by name, 

Though late that night while sleeping calm he lay 

He was pronounc'd a conjurer of fame* 
By all the servile gossips of the family. 

One of the guilty trio next day waited 

Upon our gentleman at dinner ; 
And when his appetite he well had sated, 

By accident glanc'd tow'rd the sinner ; 

" Now I am sure of one" he said, 

Rising from table slowly — 
The waiter told his fellows, " we're betray'd ! 

He is a conjurer, by all that's holy!" 



Next day another of the three, at table, 

Attended, with some fear, you may suppose, 
Now I've got two, exclaim'd he, as he rose y 

Away the frighten'd servant goes, 
And with a dismal phiz, 
Exclaim'd, the man a wizzard is, 
By ail that is abominable ! 

Well, said the third, this does look serious ? 
To-morrow I at. dinner will attend him, 
And should the devil again befriend him, 

I'll yield the ring, if he's dispos'd to query us. 

Now, reader (if I have one) you may think 
That Cricket would not fail to eat and drink 

Most manfully on this occasion ; 
Especially, as he could not tell where 
To find again such sumptuous fare, 

Or get another ration. 
When he had made the most of it ; 
He felt inclined to boast of it, 
Thank God, said he, I've got all three of them! 

The waiter, now convinced, 

Prone on his knees much fear evinced, 
(Troubles at hand, and wishing to be free of them) 
Gave up the ring, and proffer'd all their savings > 



29 

If lie would so contrive it 
To keep it from their lady private, 
And not reveal their misbehavings. 

Poor Cricket, puzzled, mus'd and pinch'd his jaw- 
At length he said, with sudden cunning struck, 
Catch that grey goose, the sole one in the flocks 

And force the ring into its craw ; 

And then inform the lady, 
That I am ready 

The wonders of my art to show. 

For what her bounty may bestow. 

Admitted — he most gravely said," 
While some obsequious bows he made., 
Good madam, by my art I know 
You have a flock of geese, say ten, or so ; 

One grey one, if I understand the thing ; 
Among some offals she has snatch'd it up, 

And in her crop 

You'll find the ring ! 

Still thinking his pretensions spurious, 
Yet, sex-like, being somewhat curious* 
She bade her servants, tho' she thought it cruel, 
To kill the goose ; and there they found the jewel, 
*S 



so 



So now our hero's name was fairly up, 

And of dame Fortune's wheel stood on the top ; 

But while he in the place sojourn'd, 

The master of the house return'd, 

And much he laugh'd at his confiding wife ; 

And thus he did accost her — ■ 

" The fellow's an impostor ! 
I'll prove it to his teeth, upon my life !" 

Then call'd our hero ; who attended, trembling, 
While the proud lord, with courteous dissembling s 
Thank'd him for services so promptly render'd, 
And then a plain alternative he tender'd. 

1< Once more with us, sir, you must dine, 
And taste our viands and our wine ; 

But ere we take our seats, I wish, 

Since you can conjure so adroitly, 
That you should tell what's in that cover'd dish, 

Now tell me quickly — tell me rightly. 
And if you can, sir, your reward I'll double, 
And pay you well, besides, for all your trouble ; 
If not, your prostrate form the floor sweeps, 
While suffering under kicks and horsewhips." 



3i 



Alas ! exciaim'd our hero, all aghast — 
Unlucky Cricket, thou art caught at last ! 

He's right, exclaim'd the lord ; for I declare 
It is a cricket I have hidden there ! 
Such wondrous art I could not well conceive ; 
But now I beg your pardon—- and believe. 

So, Mr. Cricket, full of cash and fame, 
Departed, richer, happier, than he came. 



-32 



THE VACANT CHAIR. 

0, take that Vacant Chair away, 
Of joys, forever lost, the token—* 

O, hide it from the eye of day, 

Before this widow'd heart be broken ! 

But stay — may not her spirit still, 

Invisible, yet visit there — 
With beatific influence fill 

What now appears a Vacant Chair I 

Most lovely of thy lovely kind ! 

I will indulge the waking dream — = 
Thy virtues and thy spotless mind 

Embodied here already seem. 

Embodied, as, when gracing earth, 
Thy beauteous form unrivalPd shone ; 

Scarce didst thou need a second birth, 
Whom Heav'n had fashioned for its own. 

Cold rigid Reason forces me 
To recollect thou art ethereal : 

Yet Fancy still will picture thee 
As mortal — charmingly material— 



33 



Such as, when first thy features beamed s 
Like fascination, on my eyes, 

When in the house of God I seem'd 
A taste of heav'n to realise — 

Such as, when with a tear and smile, 
That might the coldest bosom move, 

Thy candid heart, that knew no guile. 
Accepted of a soldier's love. 

Such as, when blooming, tender, kind,. 
Thy bridal innocence I saw, 

When the Heart strove to rival Mind, 
When thy confiding love was law, 

The vision grows upon my sight-— 
Angelic — but yet not improv'd— • 

For heaven cannot make more bright- 
That form, so fervently belov'd. 

How, precious to my memory, come 
The pure caresses of thine arms ! 

That, in the blest retreat of home, 
Bestow'd a paradise of charms ! 

The blush of love, fresh from the heart, 
The chaste, and soft, yet ardent kiss- 



34 



The meek, fond eye, that said, thou art 
My world, my all, my sum of bliss I 

For virtue's sake I still will deem 
Thy lovely image present there — 

I will not think it is a dream— 
Nor view it as a Vacant Chair— 

For, if temptations should assail, 
And vicious inclinations warm, 

Thy guardian spirit would not fail 
To shield me, in an angel's form ; 

For, when in battle's deadly strife 
My palpitating bosom heav'd, 

Ambition pointed to my wife, 

And thus my faltering courage sav'd. 

No cowardice nor meanness could 
Inhabit where thine influence reign'd ; 

No base or recreant feelings would 
Degrade him, who thy love had gain'd. 



My daughter ! thou in early bloom 
Thy mother's beauty dost inherit — 



85 



May'st thou her manners, too; assume, 
Her mildness, and her chasten'd spirit. 

Then thyxomminding virtues will 
Afford a claim, a title there— 

For nought but loveliness must fill 
That idoliz'd— that Vacant Chair ! 



i6 



THE HYPOCHONDRIAC CURED, 

A man, whose weakness was in part too real, 
(A greater part tho' was, it seems, ideal) — * 
Conceiv'd he was too feeble for exertion, 
And loll'd upon his scpha, like a Persian. 

Though nervous, and at times supine, 
He was not one of those who whine, 
And with complaints their neighbors tire ; 
And to be pitied rous'd his ire. 

A good well-meaning aunt, one day, 
Spoke kindly to him as he lay ; 
" My dear, I fain would comfort you — 
I pity you ; indeed I do !*' 

Pity me, madam ! said he, bouncing, 
About the room in anger flouncing $ 
I tell you, pity is my loathing, 
1*11 be respected, or be nothing ! 

Then, strutting like a new-made major, 
He strode the street, as if on wager ; 
Turn'd corners, dodg'd with much agility-, 
And for a time forgot debility. 



■37' 



ADDRESS TO SPRING. 

BY A VICTIM OF CONSUMPTION. 

In vain gay Spring, thy budding charms 
Salute these fading, languid eyes ; 

Thy genial sun no longer warms, 
To me in vain its splendors rise ! 

Smil'st thou in mock'ry, wanton Spring, 
To see thy rival, Youth, decline ? 

Or, smiles for others dost thou bring, 
While but thine April tears are mine ? 

Yet know, if triumph wakes thy song, 
If exultation prompts thy glee, 

The voice of Faith declares, ere long 
A nobler triumph mine shall be ! 

If thou, releas'd from Winter's power, 
Sport'st thy short hour mid flowery toys, 

I, too, when Death's cold night is o'er, 
Shall wake to renovated joys. 



38 



Then shall I, soaring from the tombs, 
Through ether speed the immortal wing 

Where an unfading Eden blooms, 
Where blossoms one Eternal Spring ! 



89 



HEAL BEAUTY 

All symmetry is Julia's face — 

Her cheeks all bloom— her forehead fair— 
What lips ! what eyes !— yet I can trace 

But little real beauty there. 

Laura has pass'd youth's earliest prime, 
A sweet, though not a blooming flower ; 

But Laura's charms, invidious Time ! 
Defy thy beauty-spoiling power. 

Without fair Julia's lip or cheek, 

To fascinate the sensual eye, 
Laura's diviner beauties speak, 

And to the heart resistless fly. 

They dwell not in the dimple's place, 
Nor in the eye's seductive roll ; 

They shine in many a nameless grace, 
A bright intelligence of soul. 

Happy the man, whose amorous sigh 

That breast to tender thoughts shall move- 
On whom that soul-illumin'd eye 
Shall beam with intellect and love. 



40 



ADDRESS OF 



Cetasium the Whale, to Gas, the deliverer of his 



species.* 



Benignant Power, of heavenly Science born, 
With light to bless, and beauty to adorn ; 
Friend of the finny tribe ! receive our praise, 
And deign to hear a fish extol thy rays ; 
Nor deem this tuneful tribute out of place, 
Since whales are noted for a spouting race ; 

Too long man's beacon fires have we supplied ; 
Too many, to enlighten him, have died ; 
Too long our spermacetic heads have shown 
Benighted man the dulness of his own ; 

And was it not, Gas, a cruel sight, 

When our own substance fed the sailor's Hght, 
That guided murderous whalemen in their way> 
On our own unoffending; tribe to prey ? 

But thou, resplendent Gas* ere long shalt reign,. 
And man no mor e depopulate the main ; 

* An allusion to the use of Gas Light, instead of Whale Oil 
and Spermaceti. 



41 



Ungrateful man, whose ancestor, of yore, 
We safely landed, passage free, on shore. 
Ere long thy clear and unpolluted fire 
Shall save our race, and bid the world admire : 
Then shall the sacred Temples holier seem, 
And, emulous of Heaven, divinely beam ; 
What rays so fit to light the wise and good, 
As thine, so pure, so innocent of blood ! 
Then Genius shall (exulting in thy light) 
Aided by thee, attempt a loftier flight ; 
And Science, glorying in his offspring, be 
Perpetuated, multiplied, by thee ; 

Hule thou forever, and all earth pervade ! 
Pierce, with thy subtle fire, all nature's shade ! 
Guide through mid-air thy blazing car of light, 
And banish, from her throne, usurping Night ? 
Illume the path of navies on the deep ; 
In Neptune's azure chambers, where we sleep, 
Wake us with brightness : — To salute thy blaze, 
High the prismatic spray our tribe shall raise ; 
Then shall the meteor, glittering in thy beams, 
Reflect thy glory in a thousand streams ! 

CETASIUM, 
Brazil Banks, 20 fathom, Feb. 10, 1817," 

*4' >. 



42 



TERSE IN DISHABILLE 

ON THE DEPARTURE OF MISS JUNE, AND THE ARRIVAL OF 

MR. JULY. 

She is gone, that so often delighted my heart, 
With the graces of nature, untutor'd by art : 
How oft, in the morning, all blushing the while, 
She has beckon-d me forth to the fields with a smile, 
And led, midst the charms of young Summer, so bland, 
To the garden that nourished beneath her fair hand : 
Where the ripe cherry glow'd through its spangles of 

dew, 
And rival'd her lip with its emulous hue ; 
W 7 here the rose, with her blushes contested the prize, 
And the violet strove to resemble her eyes ; 
Where the vine, like her tresses, so gracefully wreath'd, 
And the pink caught new sweets from each sigh that 

she breath'd. 
Ah ! rich were the fruits, and delightful the flowers 
That she strew'd in my path, and hung over my bowers ; 
But the sweetest of all, and the gift I prefer, 
Was my own blooming Mary, presented by her ; 
? Twas she that first brought that sweet rose to my view, 
That blooms on mv bosom with charms ever new* 



4g 



She is gone ! mildest daughter of Summer ! how soon 
We regret the departure of lovely Miss June ! 
And still more to vex us, there comes in her place 
A hot fiery fellow, with wrath in his face ; 
His fierce glowing eyes ev'ry corner pervade, 
And drive us all, wiping our brows, to the shade. 
He whirls, in his frolicks, the dust in our eyes, 
And scares us with thunder, and plagues us with flies y 
His name is July — and, with all his vagaries, 
He is good ; for he ripens our grain and our berries ; 
His virtues for many defects make amends ; 
We should bear with his faults, as with those of our 

friends ; 
Besides, what we yearly remember with glee, 
Our States he declar'd independent and free ! 
Then hail to July, of sweet June the true heir, 
Thus the brave should inherit the gift of the fair, 



44 



THE QUARRELS OF LOVE. 

Mark ye that cloud, whose sudden shade 
Succeeds the recent smile of morn ; 

Such was the frown of my dear maid 
Whose early love was turn'd to scorn ! 

Oh, how that frown did chill my heart, 
And quench my too presumptuous flame ! 

Of my regret how keen the smart ! 

How glow'd my burning cheek with shame 

How could I, with unhallow'd lip, 

That bosom's purity profane ? 
Or dare ambrosial sweets to sip, 

For which e'en Love had sued in vain ? 

Mark how that cloud, in drops of pearl, 
Dissolves, as sun-shine breaks the while j 

So wept my kind, relenting girl, 
"When penitence regain'd her smile. 

Mark, how that mild, cerulean hue ? 
Expands, amidst retiring shade ; 



45 

: 'Twas thus her eye, of heav'nly blue, 
All her returning love betray M. 

Mark too, that bow, of splendid light, 
That bends o'er earth its graceful form, 

That shines so cheering to the sight, 

When bursting sun-beams chase the storm : 

As glows that signal, from above, 

Of promised peace 'tween man and heaven, 
So glow'cl the blush of yielding love, 

While gently murm'ring, ( ( thou- rt for given ^ 



46- 



TO A! FRIEND, 

WHO URGED THE AUTHOR TO PUBLISH A VOLUME OF HIS 
FOE-MS— IN 1816. 



Would'st have me be, as some have been, 
'Mong chap-books, toys and ballads seen, 

Cry'd by some travelling huckster, 
Or, on high shelf, with Pilgrim's Progress,, 
And other works, of grace, and no grace, 

Xjumb'ring some village book-store ? 

How oft I've seen, (and sigh'd while seeing) 
The work's of many a luckless being, 

A Lorimel, Meander , or 
An Alfred, Leontine, or Damon 3 
A soft Amyntor, or Philemon, 

A Hermit, or a Wanderer, 

All in some dismal corner thrust, 
Wrapt in obscurity and dust, 

Worm-eaten, mouldy, rotten ; 
Alike, they and their authors too, 
(Amidst the rage for something new) 

Unheeded and forgotten ! 



47 



Flatter 'd they were, no doubt, and told 
Their works would pass like sterling gold 

Of currency infallible ; 
What dire heart-sinkings, then were theirs, 
To find the fruits of midnight cares 

Neglected and unsaleable ! 

Unsaleable ! O " startling thought !" 
Written for sale, and never bought 1 

And not to raise a dollar able ; 
None read* — none seek on loan or hire — 
None buy — none borrow — none admire — 

O, 'tis indeed intolerable ! 

O, spare me but this fate, kind heaven ! 
And I'll not shrink, though Zoilus, even, 

His criticising blow aims — 
Place not my works to sleep for ages, 
Where never belles, beaux, wits, nor sages 

Ask for ^Lorenzo's Poems I 



-Much it hath griev'd me, I am sure, 
To see o'er others* works, obscure, 
A veil of cobwebs thrown ; 

■■* The Author's fictitious signature = 



48 



Then how much more 'twould prompt my sighs, 
To see, with my two living eyes, 
Such drapery o'er my own ! 

O let me, then, preserve myself 
From that oblivious corner shelf— 

From Fame's entire stagnation — 
Beyond my verse let me not live — 
Let not the grosser Man survive 

The Baud's annihilation I 



49 



WHAT IS IT ? 

Though 'tis the softest thing in nature, 
Its wound is yet a sore and deep one, 

And deepest, when the gentlest creature 
(E'en tender woman) wields the weapon ! 

'Tis this (when ardent lovers sigh) 

Whose slightest motion makes them"blest 

Yet, afterwards, from this they fly, 
In search of quietness and rest ! 

'Twas this, that, on an awful time, 
Absolv'd and cheer'd the dying thief; 

Yet this brands innocence with crime, 
And wrings the taintless heart with grief 

5 Tis this can hush the sinner's groan, 
And lure the penitent to heaven ; 

Yet this incongruous thing alone 

Commits the sin that's ne'er forgiven! 



50 



MERCY. 



To crown Creation's mighty plan, 
The Almighty mandate thunder'd forth, 

" Let procreant Earth produce a Man !" 
And straight the creature sprang to birth. 

Health, strength and beauty, cloth'd his frame ; 

He mov'd with majesty and grace ; 
A bright, a pure angelic flame 

Ulum'd each feature of his face : 

Upon his brow sat calm repose, 
His eyes with love and mildness shone ; 

Till a grim band of imps arose, 

And mark'd the victim for their own. 

There Envy and Revenge pourtray'd 
The sullen frown, the threatening eye.; 

There curst Ingratitude displayed 
The foulest blot— the blackest dye. 

And Avarice, ambitious, too, 
To stamp her odious image there, 



51 



Spread on his cheeks a sallow hue, 
And wrinkled marks of worldly care. 

In wrath the Eternal view'd the stain, 
Which marr'd the offspring of his word, 

Spurn'd the weak wretch, with high disdain, 
And bade stern Justice lift her sword ! 

But Mercy, Heaven's loveliest child, 

Imploring knelt before the throne — 
Alternate prayed, and wept, and smil'd s 

With angel sweetness, all her own- 
Then turn'd to Man, with kind embrace^ 

Lamenting o'er his dire decay ; 
Her tears fell plenteous on his face, 

And wash'd the hideous blots away. 



52 



BEST CURE FOR TROUBLE 

Ben Brisk a philosopher was, 

In the genuine sense of the word ; 

And he held that repining, whatever the cause. 
Was unmanly, and weak, and absurd. 

When Mat Mope was assaulted by Trouble, 
Though in morals as pure as a vestal, 

He sigh'd, and exclaimed " Life's a Bubble,'' 
Then blew it away with a pistol ! 

Tost Tipple, when Trouble intruded, 
And his fortune and credit were sunk^ 

By a too common error deluded, 

Drown'd Trouble, and made himself drunki 

But Ben had a way of his own, 

When grievances made him uneasy p 

He bade the blue devils begone, 

Brav'd Trouble, and made himself busy. 

When sorrow embitters our days, 

And poisons each source of enjoyment \ 

The surest specific, he says, 
"For Trouble and Grief is — Employment. 



53 



The following- lines were hastily written, six years ago, in a 
moment of indignation, on reading an account of the bru- 
tal flagellation of a beautiful and accomplished young 
lady, belonging to a very respectable patriot family in 
Cumana, S. America, by the Spanish royalists, in 1816, 
for speaking against the royal government. A large 
negro executed the punishment, to the extent of about 
200 lashes — to give full effect to which, he gathered and 
raised her long and beautiful hair, that it might in no de- 
gree shield her back and shoulders from the stripes. Du- 
ring all this time she was bound, naked, upon a Jack-ass, 
and moved, with occasional halts, through the city. She 
refused food and medicine, and died soon after, from mere 
grief and shame. 

THE FEMALE MARTYR. 

Now, Spain, to thee the deadliest Fiends must yield— 
Thy cup of wrath is full — thy curse is seal'd— • 
Thine earlier crimes excite no horror now— 
Cain's mark were glory, to thy blotted brow I 

Detested King ! whose feeble hand let fall 
Thy father's sceptre, at the invader's call ; 
But, when restor'd, whose base and thankless hands 
Lack'd not for energy to smite thy friends ! 
Before thy foes a recreant, powerless thing, 
But to thy friends a monster of a king. 

Let's hear no more of tyrants, old or new $,: 
Here stands a despot paramount to view, 

*5 



9 



54 



Others have done vile deeds, for viler ends, 
Others have been ungrateful to their friends 
Others,, like him, have fired the bigot's pile, 
And shared with robbers both the crime and spoil ; 
Those against men have sinn'd, with high offence. 
This wars on Beauty, and on Innocence ? 

And how wars he ? — by avarice impelFd, 
Grasps he by force the ornaments withheld ? 
Or, mov'd by gross desires, does he employ 
Superior strength to snatch a heartless joy ? 
Not so — there were no novelty in this, 
And passion were some plea for such excess ; 
His are no vulgar crimes, no common-place ; 
He aims to be originally base ! 
And well 'twas aim'd, when his unfeeling horde. 
Well train'd to represent their sovereign lord, 
Amidst Cumana's thousands coolly stood, 
And bath'd the ignoble scourge In maiden blood. 

Avenging Heaven ! When shall thy wrath awake, 
Thy lightning hiss, thy loudest thunders break ? 
How long shall sleep thy tyrant-blasting curse, 
When thy best, fairest work, is mangled thus ? 

Exult not, monsters ! there will come a time* 
As sure as God has sworn to punish crime, 



55 



When from eaeh drop of virgin blood shall spring 
A countless host, to overwhelm your king.* 
One finger, rudely raised against those charms, 
Were cause enough to raise a realm to arms ; 
What, then, when naked, mangled, and in tears, 
Your bleeding victim in despair appears ! 

Beholds one tearless eye this cruel sight ? 
Beats there one heart but for the vengeful fight ? 
Moves there one arm but with the Patriot's sword ? 
One tongue, but to pronounce the battle word ? 

Ye Patriot souls, by holy ardor fired, 
Though Freedom jet had not your souls inspired. 
Though ail that's great and manly still had slept, 
And you, still slaves, beneath the yoke had crept, 
This bloody consummation might suffice, 
To shake the drowsy torpor from your eyes. 
Now, strong in motive, if you fail in deeds, 
If all in vain a virgin martyr bleeds, 
If this, that calls on all that's brave in man, 
Makes you not heroes, nothing earthly can :— 
Then, grovelling race, unworthy of your cause, 
Crouch to your tyger king, and lick his paws ; 

* This has since been almost literally verified,. 



56 



And when yourselves you've labor'd to debase, 
The world's contempt shall finish your disgrace I 
Then, with the lapse of future years, 
Shall flow our northern maiden's tears, 
While matrons, shuddering, shall tell 
What shame Cumana's maid befel ; 
And then our youths shall blush to know 
That none aveng'd that deed of woe ! 

Perish the picture ! Hence, degrading dream ! 

Your southern climes with nobler spirits teem ; 

Forgive the illiberal doubt, ye gallant souls ; 

That doubt no more the generous heart appals ; 

Advance, brave Patriots ! raise the standard high 1 

Resolv'd to conquer, or prepar'd to die ! 
And if, in all your suffering land, 
One lifts the sword with faltering hand — 
If one among you seems to pause, 
Or doubts the justice of your cause ; 

Hold to his dozing eyes, in colors strong, 

The pictur'd horror of Cumana's wrong i 
Paint the virgin martyr's fate, 
Victim of a tyrant's hate ! 
Shew the taintless blood that streams, 

Mingled with tear-drops, down her lovely limbs ! 
Shew the dingy fiend that grasps, 



57 



With hands profane, her beauteous hair, 

The swarthy arm, that will not spare, 
But plies the scourge that stings, like madd'ning aspSj 
That polish'd skin, so tender and so fair! 

Shew the anguish in her face, 

Not of pain, but of disgrace ; 
Shew him the drooping head, the cheek of flame, 
Signs of the bursting heart, that cannot live in shame t 

Quick, seize the passions as they kindle^ 
Lead him, glowing, to the foe ! 

Let not the swelling spirit dwindle* 
Now's the moment for the blow ! 

Wave the picture high before you, 
He will follow in the path of glory — 

Vengeance and Freedom be the cry ! 

Now, who is he that fears to die ? 

Now, charge upon those ranks unblest, 

Close let the myrmidons be press'd — 
And to the God of Justice leave the rest ! 

Degenerate Spain !* What guardian power 

* This maledictory apostrophe to. Spain, as represented by 
her monarch and his agents, was appropriate enough at the 
time this was written, and may be still. But at present 
Spain, as a nation, is in a fair way of redeeming her character, 
and atoning" for the political sins committed on her respon- 
sibility by the soi-disant legitimates who have been forced 
upon her throne , 



58 



Shall shield thee in that dreadful hour ?■ 
Call not on Him who guards the just, 
To shield thee in this cause accurst ; 
Call not on Man to sympathize ; 
His fervent prayers against thee rise ; 
While, to increase thy horror, lo, 
Perch'd on the banner of thy foe, 
The Spirit of the murdered Maid, 
In heavenly-radiant robe array'd, 
With cheering smile, and accent bland, 
Encourages the Patriot band ; — 
But now in wrath to thee it turns, 
While vengeance in its eye-ball burns ; 
And, while it frowns, its blasting breath 
Denounces woe, defeat, despair, and death 



59 



THE TORMENTOR. 

A persevering plague there is, 
Which sours the sweetest cup of bliss^ 

And clouds life's brightest sun ; 
Of happiness the worst alloy ; 
The mortal foe of every joy — 

Videlicit — a Dun. 

Not old Medusa's fabled head, 

Whose dreadful eyes could turn, 'tis said. 

The boldest form to stone, 
E'er quench'd the blaze of mirth, or tied 
With magic spell, the form of pride, 

Like this aforesaid Dun. 

Hard fares, alas, the luckless wight, 
Whose steps can, neither day nor night. 

This rude tormentor shun ; 
Who at each corner, crook and turn, 
Where'er his weary feet sojourn, 

Is haunted by a Dun ! 

Ambition drops her busy schemes ; 
Av'rice awakes from golden dream's;? 
Blithe Wit abjures his fun ; 



60 

Pride sinks his oold aspiring crest $ 
JE'en potent Genius stoops, oppressed., 
Before the mighty Dun !- 

Muse ! tell how oft thy angel song 
Has led my captive soul along, 

With more than mortal tone ; 
How I, enctranc'd, whilst thou hast smiPdj, 
Have wak'd — the sweet enhantment spoiled 

:By an intruding Dun ! 



61 



MORTALITY AND IMMORTALITY 

What is this Body ? — fragile, frail 

As vegetation's tendercst leaf- 
Transient as April's fitful gale, 

And as the flashing meteor brief. 

What is this Soul ? — Eternal Mind, 
Unlimited as Thought's vast range — ■ 

By grovelling matter unconfin'd ; 

The same, while states and empires change. 

When long this miserable frame 
Has vanish'd from life's busy scene, 

This earth shall roll, that sun shall flame, 
As though this dust had never been. 

When suns have waned, and worlds sublime 

Their final revolutions told„ 
This Soul shall triumph over Time, 

As .though such orbs had never roll'd f 



62 
THE DEVIL FISHING. 

se 4II THE WORLD'S a" FISH-POND. 



Shakspeare corrected. 



What luck, old cloven-foot, to day ? 

Said I, one foggy morning, 
As he threw out his line for prey, 

Poor mortal folk suborning;. 



j ~> 



" Not much," quoth he — "but what I have. 

Beyond dispute, is fair gain ; 
With notes to shave I caught a knave, 

A miser with a bargain. 

To catch a needy beau, I took 

A draggle-tail surtout ;* 
A would-be belle found on my hook 

A tempting full. dress suit. 

I caught a Congress-man, ,fey dint 

Of double Compensation j 
A Lawyer, on promotion bent, 

By timely nomination. 

* When this was written, in the heat of the season of 
1816, imperious Fashion burdened the beaux of the day 
^•ith cloth. surtouts, long- enough to touch the pavement \ 



68 



These Lawyers are, though oft you wish 
(No thanks for't) Satan had 'em. 

The most unprofitable fish 
Of all the sons of Adam, 

I caught a Surgeon, with a high- 
fed subject for dissection ; 

An Office -hunter, with a lie, 
Well season'd for Election," 

" What fish bite sharpest, Pug ?" said I- 
" Why, as to that," quoth he, 

" I find not many very shy, 
Of high or low degree. 

Your toper bites well at a cork, 
(When there's a bottle to it ;) 

Your Jew will even bite at Pork, 
If he smell money through it. 

Your old man likes a parchment, when 
By mortgage some one's bitten ; 

Your youngster likes & fresher skin, 
Where yet there's nothing written. 



64 

Some shy ones play about the line, 
'Till prudence waxes- feeble, 

4 ind those at last are often mine, 
Who only meant to nibble • 

There's few, indeed, &? small or great, 

(Or I am much mistaken) 
But may, by some peculiar bait, 

Be tempted, and then taken. 

But there is one, of all the rest y 
Who most employs my cook — * 

The Idler pleases me the best— 
He bites the naked hook ."* 



65 



THE WILDERNESS. 

There is a wilderness, more dark 
Than groves of fir on Huron's shore ; 

And in that cheerless region, hark ! 
How serpents hiss, how monsters roar ! 

'Tis not among the untrodden isles 
Of vast Superior's stormy lake, 

Where social comfort never smiles, 
Nor sun-beams pierce the tangled brake : 

Nor is it in the deepest shade 
Of India's tyger -haunted wood ; 

Nor western forests, unsurvey'd r 

Where crouching panthers lurk for blood ;- 

r Tis in the dark uncultur'd soul, 

By Education unrefin'd— 
Where hissing Malice, Vices foul, 
And all the hateful Passions prowl— 

The frightful Wilderness of Mini?.. 



66 



THE MODEST RETORT. 

A supercilious nabob of the East, 

Haught, being great, and purse-proud, being rich, 
A Governor, or General at the least — 

I have forgotten which— 
Had in his family a humble youth, 

One who might well a patron's purpose suit ; 
An unassuming body, and, in truth, 

A lad of decent parts, and good repute* 

This youth had sense and spirit ; 

But yet, with all his sense, 

Excessive diffidence 
Obscur'd his merit. 

One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine 7 
His honor, proudly gay, severely merry, 

Conceiv'd it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his Secretary. 

" Young man," 1 said he, " by what art, craft, or trade* 
Did your good father gain a livelihood ?" 
: " He was a Saddler, sir," Modestus said, 
s< And in his line was reekon'd good," 



61 



" A Saddler, eh ! and learn'd you Greek, 
Instead of learning you to sew ! 

Pray, why did not your father make 
A Saddler, sir, of you ?" 

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

At length Modestus, bowing low, 
Said (craving pardon if too free he made) 
" Sir, by your leave, I fain would know 
Your father's trade ?" 

*« My father's trade !— by heaven, that's too bad ! 
My father's trade ! — why blockhead, art thou mad ? 
My father, sir, did never stoop so low ; 
He was a Gentleman, I'd have you know." 
" Excuse the liberty I take," 

Modestus said, with archness on his brow— - 
" Pray why did not your father make 
A Gentleman of you P\ 



68 



LINES 



ADBRSSSED TO A SCHOLAR OF A CHARITY SCHOQI, TAUGHT ANB 
GOVERNED BX EADIES. 



A demon waited thy ill-omen'd birth— 

'Twas Ignorance ; who watch'd thy natal hour- 
Till feminine benevolence stood forth, 

And snatch'd thee, child of penury ! from his power. 

So lurk'd the dragon at the woman's side, 
(By sainted eyes in holy vision seen) — * 

To seize his unborn victim gaping wide, 

Till Angels thrust their heavenly shields between ? 

Such are thy guardians ! Each benignant hand 
That rescued thee, is scarcely less divine : 

Blest is thy birth-place — blest the favor'd land, 
"Where beauty ministers at virtue's shrine. 

* Revelation of St. John—Chap. xii. ve*. 4, 7, 8, 



69 



ODE TO VANITY. 

Thou cloak of fur, that keep'st me warm 
Amidst adversity's rude storm, 

And shield'st me from the worldling's frown- 
Thou canopy, that spread'st thy shade, 
When malice kindles o'er my head, 

And pours it's hottest fury down — ■ 

Thou spirit, gay and volatile, 

That promp'st the self-complacent smile, 

And sport'st thy Protean shapes around me— 
More comfort do I find in thee 
Than in demure philosophy, 

When sharp vexations wound me. 

In vain may critics under -rate, 

And deem my talents short of weight, 

When thou with partial scales art nigh % 
When lifted by thy buoyant spirit, 
I cannot fail to feel my merit* 

Though all the world decry ! 

'Tis true, thou send'st me castle-building. 
And mock'st me oft with tinsel gilding, 
And lead'st me oft to false conclusions ; 



Yet, when fatigu'd with plodding fact, 
And when with dry reflection rack'd, 
I love to court thy sweet illusions. 

Thy last fond dream was (to be frank) 
A mischievous, bewitching prank, 

As sportive fairy ever play'd ; 
Thou didst persuade that Laura's eye 
To my fond gaze made soft reply, 

And more than friendship's warmth betray 'd 

But 'twas no thought of me, the while, 
That lighted up that angel smile 

Upon her lovely face ; 
? Twas but the mingled glow of sense, 
Vivacity and innocence, 

That gave the inimitable grace. 

Transient as joyous was that dream ; 
But O ! its raptures were supreme 

As could be felt by frail mortality : 
There was such bliss in that short hour 
Of fancy's visionary power — 

'Twas worth an age of dull reality ! 



71 



LINES, 



TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH BEAUTIFUL EYES, BST AEPLICT1E 
BY A FLORID HUMOR IN THE LOWER PART OF HER FACE. 



Lament not, sweet Stella, that colors, too florid, 
For a moment unjust prepossessions convey ; 

Those eyes, at the base of that fine ample forehead, 
Ev'ry blemish eclipse by their brilliant display. 

Each glance is full charg'd with the weapons of love ; 

(In a diffident whisper I venture to breathe it) — 
With such powerful artillery playing above, 

No wonder the parapet suffers beneath it. 



72 



PIRACY. 



During the late war between America and England, a pilot 
boat left Charleston, S. C. for New York, with Mrs. Al- 
ston, lady of the Governor of that state, and daughter of 
Col. Aaron Burr. The ensuing 1 weather was favorable, 
but the vessel did not arrive. She was supposed to have 
been taken by the enemy. Even this hope was at length 
necessarily relinquished. And the boat and all in her 
were given up for lost, until more than five years after, 
when a pirate confined at New Orleans confessed himself 
to have been one of the pilot boat's crew, who mutinied s 
confined the captain and passengers below, plundered her, 
and scuttled her, and saw her go down, after they had 
taken to the boat — and this in the dead of the night ! — 
Mrs. Alston was one of the most accomplished and lovely 
females in our country. 

Scarce doth a star, or lunar beam, 
Cast on the wave a transient light ; 

But through the clouds a fitful gleam 
Just shows the gloomliness of night. 

Yet innocence and beauty dwell 
Beneath yon deck, in soft repose ; 

Cradled by Ocean's gentle swell ; 

Faim'd by the breeze that mildly blows. 

One well might hope, in such a scene, 
The Passions, too, might calmly rest ; 



73 



But e'en when Ocean is serene, 

Storms rage within the human breast ! 

What forms demoniac leave her side, 
Like outlaws from the dusky den ? 

Like imps they hurry o'er the tide ; 

Shame on my race ! These imps are Men ! 



Plunder began and Murder ends 
This tragedy, this hellish deed ! 

Downward the scuttled vessel tends, 
And none the shrieking victims heed. 

No human ear regards that cry ! 
No breast reciprocates that sigh ! 
But callous hearts repel the sound, 
As echoes from the rocks rebouncL 

But Heaven is just, and in due time 
Will bring to light these sons of crime ; 
Then vindicate, O Man, thy race ; 
Then Justice, shew thy sternest face ! 

If one to mercy shall incline, 
Great God, that mercy must be thine ; 
Thine for their Souls — while they atone 
To man, for deeds of horror done. 



74 



THE PLEASURES OF WINTER, 

In languid Spring I mope and yawn, 

And feel not, if I see its charms ; 
I'm glad that scorching Summer's gone, 

And Autumn's pestilential harms. 

But welcome Winter ! thee I hail, 

Whose breath my frame with vigor braces ; 

Whose roses, borne on every gale, 

Grace, not our gardens, but our faces I 

Thy fire-side comforts-s-O, how sweet ! 

Where the domestic group is seen ; 
Where Cheerfulness and Virtue meet, 

And Heart and Intellect convene : 

But chiefly, Laura, where thy face 

Its living eloquence displays, 
Whose bright intelligence and grace 

Too often tempt my ardent gaze. 

Though clouds in fleecy torrents break, 
Though Boreal blasts impel the storm f- 

Thy animating smiles can make 
Ev'n a Siberian winter warm, 



75 



THE TRIAL OF TIME. 

EXTRACT FROM A NEW TEARS ODE FOB 181!T. 

" Stop, stop that fellow !" cry'd a thousand tongues— 
" That perpetrator of unnumber'd wrongs !"— 

I saw the fugitive, with rapid pace, 
Stride o'er the ground, as one defying space. 
Some coax'd— some threaten'd — some t'arrest him 

swore — 
In vain — for Time, once past, returns no more ! 

What could their worships do, in such a case ? 
Why try him, to be sure, "par contumace /" 

The World, by counsel deeply learn'd in laws, 
Opens the weighty, interesting cause- 
Heavy the charges — many the complaints 
Of misers, spendthrifts, epicures and saints, 
Of flippant youth, and querulous old age, 
Against this wrong'd, this persecuted Sage. 

Old Rackrent, with much earnestness, deposes, 
How the sly culprit undermines his houses ; 
Whilst Orgius on the bible testifies 
How Time has damag'd both his limbs and eyes ; 



76 



And starch 'd miss Vesta swears assault and battery. 
The marks of which defy the Mirror's flattery ; 
Witness that face, with cruel wrinkles branded* 
Witness deserted bloom, and teeth disbanded 1 

Lean Shylock counts lost faculties, a hundreds 
The chief one, Memory, by the culprit plunder'd ; 
In witness — once (by poverty disguised) 
His very father was not recognised ! 
So ruin'd was the store-house of his mind 3 
A golden key alone could access find : 

A Poet, famous once for pleasing rhyme, 
Complain'd that fancy's fire was quench'd by Time j 
A Printer, poorly paid for all his news, 
Declar'd the culprit had outlaw'd his dues ; 
And many a worlding said, his very soul 
W^as put at hazard by his stern control, 
Stating how oft he had resolv'd to fit 
Himself for Heaven— but Time would not permit I 

But why each several witness should we name, 
When multitudes so clamorously blame ? 
The World conspires to overwhelm the accus'd, 
•So little valued, and so much abus'd. 
? Tis not old Time, alone, that plays the devil, 
For he, they say, has train'd a brood to eviK 



77 



Declining commerce, debts, short crops, taxation, 
Costs, sheriff's fees, and every vexation, 
Specie so scarce, and paper so redundant, 
Good deeds so rare, and robberies so abundant ; 
In short, what dire calamities and crimes 
Are not attributed to these " bad times ?" 

Who pleads for the accused ? — Will no one speak ? 
" Yea," answers one, benevolently meek, 
Whose plain drab beaver, with capacious brim, 
Shades two mild eyes that with good nature beam — ■ 
Prudent as Age, and generous as Youth — 
•' I, Candor, eldest born of holy Truth — 
I speak for Time, though all the world accuse him ; 
He is my friend, for I do not abuse him. 
As for old Rackrent's tenements, decay'd, 
Twas Time matur'd the wood of which they're made ; 
Shall Orgius' story weigh with court or jury, 
Who testifies with such malicious fury ? 
Shall he gain credit, who has spent his prime 
In one continued effort to kill Time ? 
'Tis not th' accus'd, but Dissipation, deals 
The most of those infirmities he feels : 
And Yesta's wrinkles, if the truth were known, 
Are more than half by Spleen and Envy done ; 
Those charms Time ripen'd, had she well improv'd s 
*7 



78 



His gentlest finger o'er those charms had mov'd : 

Shylock of ruin'd faculties has told — 

True, he retains but one — to count his gold ! 

Learn, mortals, hence., that Time will never spare 

The wealthy votary of sordid care : 

The Poet's fire, for all his fine pretence, 

From want of fuel cools — or indolence : 

As for the Printer, with his scatter'd debts, 

I cannot blame him greatly, if he frets — 

Tho' time was not in fault — Then pray who was ?- 

Can any of his Patrons guess the cause? 



—But who are these, whom Time will not allow 
To think of high concerns while here below ? 
Do they expect (deluded men, and blind) 
To find a dread Eternity more kind ? 

Ye, who would thrust the Accus'd from Mercy's- 
door, 
Where rest your hopes when 'Time shall be no more ? ? 

Ye grumbling throng, to morbid vision prone* 
Time's faults are not reflected, but your own /-— 
Luxurious — idle — speculating elves !-— 
Would ye have better Times ? — then mend yourselves? 



79 



What think ye, sirs — is this not quite severe ? 
It may be so — but then 'tis true, I fear. 

What's your opinion now, of the Accus'd ? 
If Candor sways your judgment, you'll acquit him ; 

If not, let him who never Time misus'd, 
Lift the first stone, with guiltless hands, and hit him ! 



BO 



SOLITUDE. 

I knew a man, whose solitude 
Beyond all parallel, was lonely ; 

A blank and cheerless scene he view'd, 
And saw a desert only : 

Yet there were crowds of human forms 

Around this novel hermit ! 
How shall we solve this paradox ? — 

(Enigma, you may term it) 

Why, though our hermit was among 
The crowd — he liv'd apart ; 

For there was, in that motley throng., 
Not one congenial heart, 



TRUE GLORY. 

Warrior, I mark thine anxious eye, 

I see impatience on thy brow ; 
War's banner waves no more on high, 

And all is dull and peaceful now ! 

Insipid, to thy pamper'd taste, 

Are " dull pursuits of civil life" — 

For sharper fare thy stomach's brac'd, 
And craves a high spic'd dish of strife ! 

WoukPst fight a host ? I'll show thee one, 
Compos'd of thy most deadly foes ; 

Would'st meet a giant ? There is none 
More stout than one whom I'll propose. 

Now gird thy burnish'd sabre on, 
Rouse all that's militant about thee ; 

Or those, who will be here anon, 

(Thy Passions) will be sure to rout thee, 

What bands of Vicious Appetites 
These leaders marshal in the field I 

And will thy band of stripling knights, 
(Thy feeble Virtues) never yield ? 



82 

0, trust not these alone — but call 
For Grace, a powerful ally ; 

Then shall thine adversaries fall, 
Thy stoutest foes submit or fly ! 

If still thy martial spirit glows, 
A single Champion stalks in view- 

The giant Chief of all thy foes — 
Self — whom His glory to subdue ! 



83 



LOVE AND SEASON. 

As I left fair Prudelia one evening, quite late. 

From Love what a lecture I got ! 
" That icicle still do you woo for a mate? 

Alas, how I pity your lot ! 
She is fair, you say — granted ; and prudent — agreed % 

She is both in extreme, I must own ; 
But heartless, inanimate, frigid — indeed, 

I'd as soon court a statue of stone." 

Convinced — to Ardentia I offer'd my suit ; 

And Reason then took me to task— 
i( That girl may adore you, beyond all dispute. 

But is love all you seek, may I ask ? 
If that eye beams affection, as fondly you say, 

It also can kindle with rage ; 
And that head, which a sculptor might wond'ring sur 
vey, 

Is by no means the head of a sage." 

My forward advisers, said I, in a pet, 

You're mighty fastidious, forsooth ! 
Pray each of you shew me what game I shall set, 

And faith I'll make love to them both. 



84 



Here/LovE, take this pencil, and mark for my flamej 

Some one in your circle of beauty ; 
And, Reason, write elsewhere your favorite name, 

And then I'll endeavor to suit ye. 

What's this? Sure the world is approaching its end. 

For Reason and Love both agree ! 
The fair Mediana they both recommend, 

As a treasure allotted to me. 
This said — to the fair one I made my best bows, 

And found her both prudent and kind ; 
With dignified grace she accepted my vows, 

The grace of the Heart and the Mind. 

Affection threw over each feature a charm, 

Wliile Intellect brighten'd the whole ; 
Her voice the most stoical bosom might warm, 

For it breath'd all the music of Soul. 
What lasting enjoyment can woman bestow, 

Where Reflection and Judgment approve, 
0, blest be the moment that brought me to know 

The union of Reason and Love ! 



85 



The following, though rather out of date as to the matter 
which occasioned it, may be worth preserving 1 for its good 
natured expression of strong- national sentiment. It was 
occasioned by the motion of a worthy member of Congress, 
in 1816, to make some alteration in the United States 
National Flag. 

TO THE CONGRESS 0F THE UNITED STATES — -THE (NOT 
humble) PETITION OF THE 

■" STRIPED BUNTING." 

High waving, unsullied, unstruck, proudly sliewelli? 
What each friend, and each foe, and each neutral well 

knoweth, 
That jour lofty Petitioner never descends, 
At the call of her foes, nor the whim of her friends ; 
The air is her element — there she remains, 
'Bove the vapors of earth and the vapor of brains* 
Her path is ethereal — high she aspires, 
Her stripes aloft streaming, like Boreal fires 5 
They stream to astonish, dismay, or delight, 
As the foe or the friend may encounter the sight. 
On the Mediterranean, had you been present, 
And seen them displayed O'er the infidel Crescent, 
The terror of ev'ry piratical knave, 
But hail'd and acclaim'd by the honest and brave — • 
8 



86 



In that region so clear, in that sky so serene, 
Those stars, in ascendancy bright, had you seen, 
Your thoughts from their glory would never have 

ranged, 
Nor dreamt that jix'd stars, like the moon, could be 

changed. 

When o'er the red cross of the humbled Guerriere 
Your Petitioner hover'd — then was she not dear ? 
So bright was your flag, and its stars so resplendent, 
So well it became the victorious ascendant, 
That the crew of Old Ironsides swore, with hearts full, 
'Twas the best thing about her, excepting her Hull ! 

By the fanie of your Jackson, Boyd, Ripley, and 
Scott, 
Who beneath your Petitioner ^bravely have fought — 
By their naval compeers, each illustrious name 
That has made your Petitioner sacred to .Fame — 
By the spirit of Lawrence, unyielding in death, 
Whose concern for her glory em.ploy-'d. his last breath — * 
By all that has claim to your love .and respect, 
She adjures you to save her from shameful neglect. 
Then shall your Petitioner, dear to the brave, 
As in honor bound, .ever triumphantly wave. 

*" Don't give up the ship" — or, don't strike the Bunting. 



87 



DREAMING AND WAKING 

I had a slumber — short and fitful — 

Too wild to soothe — too brief for restr— 

And then a dream — (O, how delightful ! ) 
My wandering faculties possess'd. 

^ow, I'm awake — but melancholy — 
And bitter recollections prove 

My sleep, a fit of doting folly — 
My dream, a fickle woman's love ! 



m 



The following was written as a rebuke to a particular young' 
lad} 7 , who, as the author now believes, did not deserve it 
so much as appearances then induced him to believe. But 
as there are perhaps some of the sex who do deserve it, if 
is thought that it may be well to record it as a standing ad- 
monition. 

TO AN AFFECTED HEIRESS, 

Believe- me, young lady, those airs you display. 
Are not so enchanting as you may imagine f 

You may frown — but an old fellow ventures to say, 
He thinks you, without them, are far more engaging. 

He has seen you (when Nature and Feeling bore sway s 
When Flirting and Coquetry kept their due distance) 

Intelligent, candid, and modestly gay, 

With graces that needed from Art no assistance. 

But now — how chang'd ! — How repulsive that stare, 
Which affects to forget, or remembers to slight one ; 

I know not your motive — but this I declare, 

If you angle for worth , Miss, your hook's not the right 
one* 



89 



When I saw you at home, and observed what you could 
be, 
Your wealth seem'd intrinsic — (I knew of no more)— 
When I see you abroad, and perceive what you would 
be, 
Though I hear of your riches, you seem to be poor. 

To conclude — let me say, without temper or malice, 
Though flirting may take well with fopp'ry and 
dotage, 

Men of spirit will turn from Caprice in a palace, 
W 7 hile Candor and Kindness will charm in a cottage, 



*8 



90 



LINES 

WRITTEN TO A YOUNG LADY VERY FOND OF DRESS. 

In early life I knew a girl, 

Supplied with toys abundant - f 
But in one box a glittering pearl 
To her appeared redundant. 

The gaudy casket that contained 

The jewel, fixed her eyes ; 
And much those eyes she often strained. 

To scan its various dyes. 

While thus with childish pride amused. 

The pearl neglected lay ; 
A watchful knave the occasion used 

To filch the gem away. 

Oh, blooming maiden ! deign to hear 

A senior's admonition ; 
And let external show appear 

The least of thy ambition. 



91 



While such anxiety you feel 
To view that form so nice ; 

Satan, that lurking thief, may steal 
The pearl of mighty price. 



92 



NEW YEAR'S REFLECTIONS. 

A New Year ! — and pray what is new, 
With him, or her, or me, or you ? 

Dear reader, let's consider: 
Would it be new, if Vice were still 
Riding on Fortune's splendid wheel, 
With Virtue trudging at her heel, 

And Conscience up for highest bidder ? 

Pray, what is new ? Are any less 
Extravagant, in food or dress ? 

Are Old Fear's habits mended ? 
Rears Pride less high her towering crest ? 
Is Malice banish'd from each breast ? 

And is the reign of Avarice ended ? 

Has Idleness been driven hence? 
Has folly yielded to good sense ? 

Has vile Intemperance departed ? 
Has Vanity now ceas'd to tickle ? 
Are Prudes less prim, or Flirts less fickle. 

Or Coquettes more true hearted ? 



93 



Does the Mechanic cease to fret 
Over the long unsettled Debt, 

Due from the rich delinquent ? 
Can Printers yet escape from care, 
And hope for punctual payment, where 

Their labor and their ink went ? 

Does Time, with swift and steady pace, 

A less unprofitable race 

Pursue, this year, than all may trace 

In years that have preceded ? 
And when he points to that great sea 5 
A shoreless, vast Eternity, 

Is the dread signal heeded ? 

If not, alas ! what is there new, 
That's worth a thought to me or you, 

Or cause for gratulation ? 
'Tis but the dull old story o'er ; 
The moments new, and nothing more ;• 

Time Has but chang'd his station. 

That happy New Year that should find 
A heart renew'd, a purer mind^ 



£4 



Improving time and talents here— - 
Should such a time reach me or you, 
That were a moment rich as new — 

Tlxat were, indeed, a blest New Year F 



TO MY PEN. 

Come, passive servant of my will, 

Thou restless busy -body — meddling elf! 

Come, till thy thirsty throat, come, drink thy fill, 
And write an ode. — To whom? — Why, to thyself! 

" Myself!" methinks I here thee quickly cry — 
"Myself! turn egotist too? — no, not I — 

I'd sooner serve n laureat to a king.; 
Sooner would I in words like oil, so smooth, 
Pronounce a villain great, his conscience seo-th, 

Or tarnish innocence — (a common thing,!) 
Though, by the by, to me it would be new, 
None have / blemisli'd— I appeal to you." 

No, faithful Pen, thou ne'er «did'st place 
A blush on modest beauty's face ; 
Nor hast thou nam'd a villain great, 
Nor stain'd a worthy name with venom'd hate. 

But why 'gainst egotism dost thou strive ? 
Thou'rt not the only self-prals'd wight alive — 
Authors, whose volumes long have grac'd the shelves. 



■96 



And scribbling, language -murdering poetasters, 
Mock satirists, pedantic scholars, masters, 
If none will laud them — why they praise themselves i 

Though but the offspring of a simple goose, 
None, like thyself, can tell thy wond'rous use ; 
Write, then ! inform the world (the town at least) 
That thou'rt to me more welcome than a feast- 
Inform how oft, by light of taper, 
Thou'st travel'd o'er whole fields of paper ; 
How oft, with him on old Pegasus, 
Thou 'st scal'd the cliffs of steep Parnassus, 
Or, led by his aspiring mind, 
Leapt on the clouds, and rode the wind ! 

Ah, humbling thought ! — ye sages, "'tis no joke, 
(Although the assertion may your pride provoke) 
A Horner's fire, a Pope's poetic flame, 
A Franklin's wisdom, and a '.Newton's fame, 
All streams of science, simple and abstruse, 
Flow thro' this member of the silly goose ! S 

* * * * * * 

In truth, I think thou art my firmest friend, 
On thee, at least with safety I depend, 



m 



Though oft thy form, sans mercy, I abuse"; 
For when, in studious mood, the muse unkind., 
I sit, while roars the hoarse nocturnal wind. 

My teeth thy tender body sorely bruise. 

All this, and more, my friend, thou'rt doom'd to bear, 
For oft on thee some rhymester's fingers fall, 
And force thee ('gainst thy will no doubt) to scrawl 

Some fulsome Rebus, sickening to the ear ! 

-* * ^ & « * 

When Pride on me shall cast her lowering eye. 
And Plutus' fav'rites pass in silence by ; 
When sneering pedants scorn my youthful strains, 
And cold neglect shall chill my ardent veins ; 
Tired and disgusted with the " world's dread scorn,' f 
To thee, for consolation, I will turn. 
And when in earth the founder'd poet lies, 
The world, relenting, will no more despise ; 
Some kind surviving friend, perhaps, may then 
Esteem the labours of my faithful Pen. 
February 22d, 1800, 



9 



98 



AFFECTATION REBUKED* 

Said Ann to her mother (affecting to pout) 

" That impudent man I detest ! 
I can't show my face, within doors, or without, 

But I meet the full gaze of that pest ! 

Don't you think, my dear 'ma, that a few hours ago. 
After passing him (would you believe it ?) 

He turn'd himself round, and he stared at me so — 
So steadily — none can conceive it !" 

"Be cautious, my child, there is company here — 
And you may for imprudence be blamed — 

Who told you of all this impertinence, dear ?" 
" Why I saw it, and was so ashamed !" 

c * Beware affectation, and vanity too/' 

The mother replied, with a smile — 
u When you saw him so steadily looking at you, 

Pray where did you look, all the while ? M 



99 



PLATONIC LOVE. 

0, Lady, spare this throbbing heart ! 

5 Tis frail — 'tis weak — but 'tis not free- 
Not that I dream of any art 

To lure that worthless heart from me ;— => 

But still, unconscious of all guile, 
Thou mays't excite forbidden sighs,, 

By the sly rougery of that smile, 
By the arch glances of those eyes — ■ 

By that unstudied, native grace, 

That cheers, warms, blesses all around ; 
By that bright, animating face, 

And by that tongue's bewitching sound- 
But, chiefly, by the force of thought, 

The sportive wit, the ready mind, 
Are the sweet fascinations wrought, 

That my enchanted senses bind. 

* .-* # # -#■ % 

A dear one claims, and well deserves 
My bosom's mansion, and its stores—' 



100 

But, hospitably, still reserves 
A room, when friends approach its doors. 

A chamber in my heart remains, 

Free for the good and fair- 
When my sweet friend a visit deigns, 

§he*ll find a welcome there. 



101 



CAHE. 



Hail, zest of pleasure !— pepper' d sauce— no worse. — 
Thou art, indeed, like wormwood — but no curse — 

'Tis fact, I will attest, though critics growl; 
Thou'rt not, indeed, so pleasant, quite, as custard ; 
But who'd dispense with pepper, ginger, mustard, 

Because, forsooth, they make an infant scowl? 

Who would not smile, to hear a son of dust, 
(Lamenting sore that some licentious gust 

Had swept his crop) thus Providence beseech : 
" Let Sol's bright rays in ceaseless radiance pour 
Upon my corn — and let fell rain no more 

In hostile showers my growing barley reach !" 

Reader, suppose some wight, no matter who — 
(The thing is possible — 'tis common too) — 

Should thus lament, in bitterness of soul ; 
" How fine. that- prospect! how sublime! how grand! 
'T would seem like some enchanted fairy land- 
But yon huge mountain (curse it!) spoils the whole !' : 

The man's a fool, thou sayest — be it so— 
Thou art the man, my friend, for aught I know ; 
*9 



102 



Though on my conscience, sir, I mean no harm r 
Perhaps thou ne'er hast urg'd thy solemn prayer 
That heaven from thee would drive unwelcome Care y 

And place thee where no anxious thoughts alarm* 

As when a vessel, with propitious gales, 
On Ocean's calm expanse unfurls her sails, 

Each day rolls on, a dull insipid round ; 
Anon the awful tempest loudly roars, 
While through the gloom the rushing torrent pours. 

And clamorous voices aggravate the sound : 

But, safe in port arriv'd — all danger flown — 
Momus, more jovial, now resumes his throne ; 

The past adventure wakes the soul to bliss ; 
With double relish Tom tips round the bowl ; 
Jack fondly meets the idol of his soul ; 

Past Care adds pleasure to the greeting kiss. 

"Begone, dull Care\" mistaken mortals cry— 
*' Far from our breasts to other regions fly ; 

Let soft repose upon our bosoms rest." 
From vexing Care the sullen cynic flees 
To gloomy shades, and. scenes of fancied ease, 

And vents the effusions of his spleen-struck breast* 



10& 

From thee, Care! (as though thou wert a ghost) 
The tippling gentry to the tavern post, 

And drown their senses and their reason there; 
Behind the shield of Bacchus, from thy face 
The thoughtless drunkard seeks a hiding place, 

And makes himself a beast, to 'scape from Care ! 

Why shrinks the mortal, frighten'd, from thy view ? 
Thou art not always comely, it is true ; 

But still thy form I never wish to shun : 
To whate'er feast of earthly bliss I look, 
I see thee acting as the foremost cook ; 

Where thou art not, all true enjoyment's done* 

E'en childhood has its Care-— the sportive throng 
Try who plays best, who's nimblest, who most strong 

E'en here ambition actuates the mind ; 
Oft riper age they act (without its vice) 
One apes the soldier ; one the beau, so nice y 

And even here we may instruction find, 

The youth, ascending from his childish sport, 
On manhood's verge, to thee prefers his court, 

Surveys his breast, and finds all vacant there ; 
A novel passion then usurps control, 
Subdues, directs, and animates his soul — - 

He loves — and plunges in a sea of Care I: 



104 

Arriv'd at manhood's prime, true bliss is found ; 
The liveliest; sweetest Cares of life surround ;— 

A tender offspring claims the fostering hand ; 
Here all is center'd — here the grand pursuit, 
" To teach the young idea how to shoot," 

And bid the mind's progressive power expand. 

For what, to man, was reason's treasure given, 
Why was he made the noblest work of heaven, 

But to be active, and improve his mind ? 
Who, that could walk, would, like a reptile, creep ? " 
Who, that could think, would waste his life in sleep,P. 

Or grovel, worm -like, to the dust confm'd?: 

Header ! of similes I'm always full — 
We Poets — (faith, I almost made a bull) — 

We scribblers, then, with these are much in love-; 
Listen — I've one — 'twill prove beyond a doubt, 
That those who would this self-same Care root out, 

Reject a blessing sent them from above. 

When some clear stream, obstructed, crooked, bubbling^ 
Here flowing smooth, there rocks its progress troubling., 

Flows clear as crystal, sweet as morning dew ; 
Remove the rocks — a straighter course direct — 
Let all be smooth — be all its bubbling check'd — 

And lo ! a stagnant, nauseous ditch we view I 



105 

Thus flows the stream of life — its varied course 
Now gently murmuring, now in torrents hoarse, 

Oft intercepted by "perplexing Care ;" 
This care dispel—anxiety remove — - 
The breast is cold — the heart forgets to love—* 

Life stagnates — pleasure vanishes in air ! 

Then cease, ye sons of fiction, to pourtray 
Care with a squalid face, and hair like hay ! 

On her no more with rueful visage stare ; 
I'll stand her champion, 'gainst each scribbling elf 
She is the salt of life< — aye, life itself — 

And Death is nothing but the want of Care ! 

March I, 1800, 



±06 
THE RUINS. 

I've seen, in twilight's pensive hour, 

The moss-clad dome, the mouldering toweF; 

In awful ruin stand ; 
That dome, where grateful voices sung, 
That tower, whose chiming music rung, 

Majestically grand ! 

I've seen, 'mid sculptur'd pride, the tomb 
Where heroes slept, in silent gloom, 

Unconscious of their fame ; 
Those who, with laurel'd honors crown'd 3 
Among their foes spread terror round* 

And gain'd — an empty name ! 

I've seen, in Death's dark palace laid 3 
The ruins of a beauteous maid, 

Cadaverous and pale ! 
That maiden who, while life remain'd. 
O'er rival charms in triumph reign'd,* 

The mistress of the vale. 

I've seen, where dungeon damps abide* 
A youth, admir'd in manhood's pride, 
la morbid fancy rave ■; 



107 

He who, in reason's happier day, 
Was virtuous, witty, nobly gay, 
Xearn'd, generous and brave. 

Nor dome, nor tower, in twilight shade, 
Nor hero fallen, nor beauteous maid, 

To ruin all consigned — 
Can with such pathos touch my breast 
As (on the maniac's form impress'd) 

The Ruins of the Mind ! 



108 



WHERE CAN IT BE?* 

Says Tom to a trav'ler, "Pm feasted to -death 
? Mong these people so social and hearty ; 

I am always engaged, without time to take breath. 
At some dining or evening party. 

I came (while my thirst for improvement was raging) 

To allay curiosity's itching; 
But my time is all spent with these lads so engaging s 

And these sociable girls so bewitching. 

I acknowledge, indeed, Hospitality's power 
The stranger's enjoyments to sweeten ; 

But there is a distinction (I feel it each hour) 
Between being cherish'd and eaten* 

I love the kind souls-^-but it gives me concern 

In this sweet dissipation to dip so, 
For anything solid I never can learn 

In this modern domain of Calypso." 



*This trifle was not written in spleen, but in perfect good 
nature, as a merry joke upon a town rather remarkable &r 

.. reserve to strangers. 



109 



Go with me, said the other — a little way south, 
Where two beautiful streams form a junction, 

Is a smart little town ; you may there spend your youth; 
Unmoved by your present compunction. 

The girls are most fair ; but, in mercy, reserved ; 

Or too meek and too modest to know it ; 
The lads, tho' with spirits magnanimous nerv'd ? 

Are too unassuming to shew it. 

In that pleasant town you may safely remain, 

Disengaged, unmolested, a stranger; 
And I'll forfeit my life, sir, if there you complain 

Of extreme Hospitality's danger ! 



10 



110 



THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. 

Who that's condemn'd, with heavy load, 
To trudge along life's dreary road, 
Would not rejoice at every stage 
That realis'd the hopes of age ? 

The hopes of age ! some may reply — ■ 
What hopes in age can we descry ? 

I'll tell you, friend — in childish years 
W T e travel in a vale of tears — 
In youth, amid seductive flowers, 
We revel in temptation's bowers ; 
In manhood, wild and fierce desires, 
Beneath us rage, like JEtna's fires. 

But age in sober prospect shows 
A calm retreat, where all repose- 
Where all life's toils and troubles close*-* 
Where wicked arts no more molest — • 
And where " the weary are at rest." 

Why, then, should we not all rejoice* 
With grateful hearts and cheerful voice, 



Ill 

At every resting place, where we 
In retrospect past dangers see, 
And where the conscious pilgrim knows 
His progress to his blest repose ? 

But ere fond hopes shall warm the breast 
With thoughts of that long wish'd-for rest, 
Let Reason and Religion ask, 
Have we perform'd our daily task ? 
Have we in seasonable hours 
Gather'd our share of fruits and flowers 
To make our final offering, where 
We seek repose from worldly care ? 
Have we, in smooth or rugged land, 
To neighbors reaclrd a helping hand P 
Have we our faculties improv'd, 
And glean'd all fields through which we rov'd ? 

If so—- then welcome we arrive 
Where rival hosts no longer strive — 
Where Peace and tranquil Rest await 
The weary pilgrim at the gate : 

If not — stern justice frowns severe: 
Bids rigid Conscience straight appear ; 



112 

And to his thorny grotto yields 
The idle loiterer o'er life's fields. 

Then let us gather, as we go, 
Where foilage spreads, or waters flow, 
Due tribute for an offering, where 
Oblivion banishes all care ; 
And at our annual resting places, 
Let travellers, with cheerful faces, 
Rejoice that one long stage is past, 
In hopeful progress to the last. 



II 



Q 



GIVE NO HANDLE. 

Says Jack (whose imprudence had lost him a friend) 

" I cannot conceive, for my life, 
Why he slights me — unless, as I now apprehend, 

f Tis because I once gave him a knife, 

A knife will cut love, it is generally said., 
(And if all the world lies, ? tis a scandal.") 

Says Tom, " you might safely have given the blade, 
But you should not have given a handle." 



*10 



114 



THE WINTER'S NIGHT. 



The thick'ning shades of night appear — 
Hoarse breathes the wintry storm afa 

Hark ! from the sea-beat shore I hear 
The din of elemental war. 

Fierce on my roof the rattling hail 
Its glassy flood tremendous pours ; 

The tempest bellows in the vale, 
Aloud the bending forest roars* 

Yet, while convulsive Nature's groan 
Rocks Earth upon her trembling pole, 

A smile, dear girl, from thee alone, 
Imparts calm sunshine to my soul. 



No wealth have I — nor fame — nor power — j 
Though rich enough if lov'd by thee — 

Yet thousands, in this dreadful' hour, 
Would give all these to fare like me. 

What numbers, on the troubled deep, 
Remote from friends, from kindred dear^ 

For wives belov'd, desparing weep, 
For children, drop the bitter tear ! 



115 

Safe — sheltered from the dismal storm — 
Love's chastest sweets my breast inspire, 

While in my cot, so snug and warm 
We sit around the cheerful fire. 

How throbs my heart with purest joy, 
While, mid these scenes of mutual bliss. 

With winning smiles our infant boy 
Implores the fond maternal kiss. 

O, let me clasp thee to my breast 
And meet affection's cheering smile, 

In chaste allurements lull to rest 
My cares, my sorrows, and my toil. 

We'll trim the brisk enlivening fire, 

Nor dread the wind that round us blows ; 

Till sleep shall bid our thoughts retire 
To pleasing dreams, or soft repose* 



116 
LINES 

WRITTEN IN BEHALF OF ONE WHO WAS IN A LOVE-FIT , 

Frown not, lovely girl, on the muse 

Who would plead for a captive of thine ; 

Nor with coldness repulsive, refuse 
His off'ring at Beauty's fair shrine. 

Need that passion in language be dress'd. 
For her in whose presence he bows ? 

O, have not his eyes long express'd 
What now his presumption avows ? 

'Twas not that fine form, charming girl, 

Alone, that attracted his eye ; 
Nor yet the luxuriant curl 

That play'd on thy forehead so high ; 

Neither was it that delicate swell 

That gracefully rounded thy chin ; 
Nor those lips where twin Cupids might dwell, 

Nor the rose -dew (untasted) between : — 

? Twas the light of that soul -beaming glance 
That glows with intelligent fire, 



117 

Whose mixture of goodness and sense 
Compell'd his proud heart to admire. 

O, think, if thy captive was charm'd 

With that look, which no passion did move, 

How his heart with delight might be warm'd 
By a beam of reciprocal love ! 

Hope, (flattering gypsey !) once said 
" Go, woo her, and win for thy pains ^ 

Though youth's vernal season has fled, 
Thy summer of manhood remains." 

Despair, in his muttering tone, 

Attempted to raise a debate— 
When he said, "let the matter alone — 

Her next glance shall determine my fate." 



118 



THE SAILOR. 

" The wary sea-bird screams afar — >. 

Along the wave dire omens sweep— 
From the veil'd sky no friendly star 

Beams on the undulating deep. 

Hark ! from the cliffs of distant shores 
The Lorn* emits his dismal cry— 

The wave portentous warning roars, 

And speaks the threatening tempest nigh, 

What guardian angePs watchful power 
Shall snatch me from the angry deep s 

Or bid, in that tremendous hour, 
The demon of the waters sleep ? 

Or who, if on some desert wild 

I drift, weak, famish'd and distrest, 
Shall hush the sorrows of my child, 
Or sooth Lavinia's wounded breast ? 



* The Lorn, according* to St. Pierre, is a dismal kind of bird? 
which, especially on the approach of a storm, perches on 
the cliffs and promontories of the shore, and utters a noise 
like the shrieks of a drowning; person. 



119 

Sweet objects of my early love 

For you with aching heart I mourn ; 

Far from your peaceful vale I rove, 
Ah ! hopeless ever to return ! 

Yet, should it be my happy lot 

To hail again my native shore, 
Secure within my humble cot, 

I'll brave the restless deep no more." 

His prayer was heard — the rolling bark 

Rode through the storm with stubborn pride 

And William, blithe as morning lark, 
Fiew to his sweet enraptured bride. 

Yet Will, with love and liquor warm, 
Ere yet a month had pass'd in glee, 

Forgot the terrors of the storm, 

And, singing, squared away for sea! 



420 
AMERICAN TRIBUTE, 

PROMPTLY PAID. 

At an earlier time 

It was reckon'd no crime, 
(Though now we such measures prohibit) 

To tickle the paws 

Of the Barb'ry Bashaws, 
With a snug little handful of tribute* 

So a smart Yankee ship 

Now and then they'd equip, 
Whate'er it might cost them to rig its; 

And our good-natur'd folks 

Sent our fine native oaks 
Abroad, as an Algerine frigate ! 

Thus, instead of the stars 

That should wave from our spars, 

Her peak bore the infidel Crescent; 
But they soon thought that one, 
Fraught with ballast alone, 

Was no satisfactory present. 



121 

So, while we fought Britain , 

That moment they hit on, 
To attack us with wonderful bravery ; 

And by way of broad hint, 

To shew what they meant, 
They carried our tars into slavery. 

And, now we have leisure 

To study their pleasure, 
And something to spare of our lumber ; 

Since one ship, in ballast, 

Won't soften their malice, 
For peace sake, we send them a number! 

And good store of guns, 

To try if, for once, 
To gratitude we can awake 'em; 

And men, in abundance, 

Strong fellows, and sound ones, 
They have nothing to do but to take >em! 

Our pris'ners to ransom, 
We send something handsome, 
In metal, undoubtedly current; 

11 



122 

And powdery in potions, 
And similar notions, 
That will cure their distemper, we warrant. 

Already the Dey 

Is much better, they say, 
Having voided a couple of vermin ! M 

And the doctor supposes 

A few more such doses 
His obstinate case will determine. 

Such, such is the Tribute 

We Yankees exhibit, 
On every trying occasion ; 

If this don't convince 

The Barbarian Prince, 
He is past all the art of persuasion! 

August 8th, 1815. 



*A frigate and a brig- captured by the American Squad- 
iren. 



123 



THE TREBLE VOICE. 

That voice — 0, how its warblings thrill 

Each nerve with rapture, while I hear ! 
While every earthly thought is still, 
And none but purest pleasures fill 
My senses, crowding at my ear. 

Hark — how it swells ! — so swells my soul 
With joy exalted, pure and holy ; — 

It rises ! — Earth, thy base control 
I spurn ! Adieu, vain world of folly ! 

For I disclaim all grovelling joys — 
I feast on sound — I live on song — - 

I rise, immortal, with that voice, 

To heaven, where all such strains belong ! 

In tender cadence now it fallsr— 

Breathes gently through the sacred dome- 
Like the angelic tone that calls 

A kindred spirit to its home. 

'Tis ended — but the lovely strain 
Still sweetly dwells on Fancy's ear; 



124 

Mortal 1 find myself again, 
I know it by this starting tear. 

•*Tis not my present sense, alone, 
That wakes, sweet Laura, at thy song 

But images of pleasures flown 

Around the seat of Memory throng. 

And then I think of other days, 

When one, with heart as pure as thine, 

Beside me raised the hymn of praise, 
And blended all her soul with mine. 

Sing on, fair warbler ! — 0, restore 
The dear illusion to my view J 

To sooth my widow'd heart, onee more 
The dream of past delights renew. 



125 



LOVE AND LUST. 

Lust, like a ravenous tyger, springs 
With savage gust, upon its prey, 

And on the lovely object brings 
The marks of ruin and decay. 

Love, like the bee, with gentle power, 
Extracts the honey of delight, 

Sips every sweet, nor wounds the flower 
On which its tender pinions light. 

Lust, like a devastating fire, 

Embraces only to destroy ; 
And, in the fervor of desire, 

Blasts every comfort, every joy ! 

Love, like the genial sun of May, 
Emits its kind refreshing beams, 

Drives each intruding cloud away, 

And o'er life's landscape gaily gleams. 

Lust, like a mighty deluge, pours 
Dismay and terror where it flows j 

*11 



126 

Poor victims shudder while it roarsj 
And wake to horror from repose* 

Love, like the gently winding rill, 

Glides, peaceful, through this varied scene- 
While every boisterous care is still — • 
And all is tranquil, all serene. 



127 



THE DEATH OF LOVE* 

Young Love, elate with hope and fond desire 3 
Elastic, buoyant, sported o'er the lawn- — 

Breath'd on the dewy rose her amorous fire, 
And gave fresh incense to the Summer's dawn. 

How pure the heart that heav'd the unconscious sigh ; 

How blush'd, unknown to guilt, that dimpled cheek ; 
How chaste, and yet how ardent, was that eye, 

Whose tender glances more than words could speak ! 

How 1 admir'd, when Love's alluring form 
Rose, like some heavenly vision, to my sight, 

And on a statue lean'd her graceful arm, 

That should have warm'd the marble with delight I 

0, fatal touch ! the frosty contact chill 'd 
And froze the genial current of her heart, 

Life's subtle fluids to their source congeal'd. 
And spread an icy death o'er every part ! 

O, say — what demon lurk'd in ambush there, 
Whose deadly malice could so fatal prove ? 

What fiend could paralyse a form so fair ? 
- — It was Neglect — the mortal foe of Love l 



128 



THE GENEROUS NEGRO, 

An. English gentleman and his lady were on board of a vessel 
in convoy, bound to the East Indies. While on a visit to 
the admiral's ship (having left two children in the care of a 
young black servant) a sudden storm separated the fleet. 
The vessel had foundered, and was fast sinking ; the 
boat along side was crowded with terrified fugitives, who 
refused to admit the servant with the children. The 
faithful creature placed them in the boat, and remained 
and sunk with the ship. 

Tremendous howls the angry blast ; 

The boldest hearts with terror quake ; 
Against the vessel's tottering mast 

The liquid mountains fiercely break ; 
Each eye is fix'd in wild despair, 
And death displays its terrors there. 

Now plunging in the dread abyss, 
They pierce the bosom of the deep — 

Now rise, where vivid lightnings hiss, 
And seem the murky clouds to sweep ; 

Through the dark waste dread thunders roll. 

And horror chills the 'frighted souL 

The storm abates — but, shattered sore, 
The leaky vessel drinks the brine— 



129 

They seek in vain some friejidly shore— 
Their spirits sink ; their hopes decline . 
But lo, what joy succeeds their grief! 
Kind Heaven grants the wish'd relief. 

See, on the deck young Marco stands* 
Two blooming infants by his side, 
Entrusted to his faithful hands ; 

A mother's joy — a father's pride — 
Tho' black his skin, as shades of night, 
His heart ia fair, his soul is white. 

Each to the yawl with rapture flies, 

Except the noble, generous boy ; 
" Go, lovely infants, go," he cries, 

And give your anxious parents joy ; 
No mother will for Marco weep, 
When fate entombs him in the deep. 

Long have my kindred ceas'd to grieve i 
No sister kind my fate shall mourn ; 

No breast for me a sigh will heave ; 
No bosom friend wait my return! 

He said, and, sinking, sought the happy shore, 

Where toil and slavery vex his soul no more I 



130 



FRAGMENT. 

•—I- met, as near the forest's skirts I stray'd, 
A remnant of a man ; wooing the gloom 
Of twilight shade, congenial to his soul. — 
He threw askance a look of wild reproach, 
That seem'd to say, " Avaunt, unkind intruder ! 
These haunts are consecrated to Despair ;" 
Then, turning, sought the bosom of the wood, 

I follow'd him, aloof ; and oft observed 
His comely, though emaciated form, 
Alternate gliding through umbrageous groves, 
Or slowly climbing o'er the craggy steep. 

At length, beneath a huge and shelving rock, 
He sat him down — its high projecting brow 
A hemlock met, whose thick, entangled limbs 
Flung o'er the ground below a soinbrous shade ; 
And near the root, in subterraneous course, 
A bubbling streamlet flow'd, whose hollow sound 
'Rose through the crannies of the broken earth.— 

" Fit temple of despair !" he said — and then, 
With eyes that gleam'd a sullen satisfaction. 



131 



He view'd the gloomy scene. — "Here, haggard fiend. 
Thou sitst enthroned, in ghastly majesty — 
Here will I raise an altar — and thereon 
Lay these weak limbs, a wretched sacrifice !" 

Then from his bosom he a phial drew, 
And viewed it with a grim hysteric smile. — 
" 0, precious draught," he said-—" thou art, to me, 
Like a cool fountain to a thirsty pilgrim— 
Thy cordial power shall lull the rankling pain 
That wrings my tortured heart." — -Then to his lips 
He rais'd, with eager hand, the deadly potion.— 

— " Hold, wretched man!" I cry'd- — and rushing forth, 

Seiz'd his rash hand — while, with a ghastly stare, 

He ey'd me, as an evil genius, sent 

To cross the fondest purpose of his soul.— 

His cheeks were lean and sallow ; and he seem'd 

A wreck of man, a monument of woe ! 



(I saw him once, in happier days, when joy 
Beam'd in each feature, and the admiring world 
Deny'd him not the early wreath of fame — 
But, in some sanguine moments of his youth, 
Fell Dissipation led his steps astray — . 



132 



Then did n© friend, with bland solicitude, 

Reach out a gentle hand to stay his course, 

Or to restore him to the path of virtues — 

Then, lorn and destitute, he keenly felt 

The scorn of an uncharitable world, 

Whose cold reproach, and frown contemptuous, weigh'd 

His spirit down, and drove him to despair.) 



I press'd his hamL — and with a tender smile, 
Proffer ? d my service — and, while yet I spoke, 
I saw a tear roll down his faded cheek, 
Which was a stranger- there-^-for scorching grief 
Had dried, long since, the moisture of his eyes. — 
And then, methought, I saw a gleam of hope, 

Borne in a languid smile, illume his face 

A gradual, increasing smile, which seem'd 
Like the returning of the vernal sun, 
Which comes to chase the wintry cloud away, 
And bid reviving nature bloom again. 

* * * * . * -* 

And now, with health and happiness elate, 
He lives, to virtue and to friendship true.— 
Oft with the music of his grateful thanks, 
He gratifies my ear; and blesses oft 



133 

The guardian power that led my wandering steps 
To the intended scene of self-destruction. 

Now do I feel more pride, in having thus 
Restored a youth, from misery and vice 
To virtue's path — his sorrows sooth'd — and poured 
The balm of friendship on his wounded heart — » 
Pluck'd from his breast the cancer of despair, 
And planted hope's delightful promise there— 
Than I should feel to rule the state alone, 
;Or wade through bleeding millions^, to a throne. 



134 



THE SPIES, 

When lurking in the camp of foes, 
With adverse chances all before him, 

The war-spy trembles, for he knows 
There stands a gibbet, in terror em. 

And this is for his country's sake ; 

Yet nations, by consent denounce him ; 
And strictly they the forfeit take, 

And ignominious they pronounce him. 

The lire-side spy sits cool and calm, 
And scans your secrets with impunity ; 

Pours friendly words in breath of balm, 
Then tattles to the whole community. 

Yet, though no gallows or no rope 
Their terrors in this case exhibit— 

The scorn of all good men, we hope, 
And just contempt, will form his gibbet 



135 
MENTAL BEAUTY. 

The soft gentle breezes no more 

Convey sweet perfume thro' the vale, 
But tempests tremendously roar — 

Cold snow rides aloft on the gale. 
The forests bow low to the wind, 

The traveller shivers with cold, 
Old Boreas, rude and unkind, 

Drives the innocent flock to the fold. 

The rose, and its lovely perfume, 

Is ravished and fled v 1th the breeze ; 
The cherry's ripe sweetness, and bloom, 

Hans: tempting, no more on the trees. 
The enlivening fountain of light 

Ski-nes dim on the mountains and plains ; 
No more the wild son^Ws delight 

To cheer the sad heart with their strains. 

What avails all this loss, to the Mind 

Which makes, of life's changes, the best ? 

More rational pleasures I find 

Where reason commands us — "be blest!" 

Tho' nature one pleasure denies, 
And exhibits rude scenes for a while* 



136 

The quota of bliss she supplies. 

Where summer and spring ever smile* 

The soft vernal breeze of the morn, 

In Maria's sweet breath shall revive ', 
The rose, from its parent bush torn, 

Shall bloom on her features and live : 
The cherry's bright hue on her lip 

Will ripen more luscious and fair, 
Where chaste morning zephyrs shall sip. 

And murmur their love thro' the air. 

Bo I sigh for the sun's fallen beams ? — - 

Her countenance, glowing with love, 
In his absence delightfully gleams, 

And bids each dark vapor remove. 
Tho' birds tune no more their sweet throats, 

To hail the bright " child of the dawn," 
Thch music's improved in her notes. 

As she sings of blest infancy — gone ! 

But the winter of age, you reply, 

Shall crop the fair rose-bud of youth j 

Her bloom, like the cherry, must die. 
Each flower points out the sad truth.. 



137 

Diseases may taint her sweet breath, 
Her countenance lose its bright charms ; 

Her voice shall be smother'd in death, 
Where no vernal sun ever warms ! 

But ah ! 'tis her Mind which can give 

Delight, when her beauty is fled — 
Which bids jiobler pleasures to thrive — ■ 

Yields fruit when the blossom is dead. 
Do the songsters one sentiment know, 

As they chatter their notes to the gale ? 
With a soul, does the rose ever glow, 

While it sheds its perfume o'er the vale ?- 

Ah no ! tho' of beauty they boast, 

Tho' their melody sounds to the pole, 
Not one of the beautiful host 

Is possest of a beautiful soul. 
'Tis the Mind, which firm pleasure bestows, 

When the charms of frail beauty are lost, 
Which in life's dreary winter still glows, 

Untouch'd by its withering frost. 

December 16th, 1799. 



na 



SPORTS OF FEMALE YOUTH, 



Perhaps there are few scenes more exhilirating, more re- 
freshing- to .the heart laboring under mental perplexity, 
and bodily languor and fatigue, than where accomplished 
females, in the fresh bloom of earliest youth, indulge 
their vivacity within the limits of decorum. It was such 
a scene, in a garden, and under such circumstances, that 
elicited the following lines. 



Sweet playful sisters — twins of joy ! 

Pure hearts, with guileless pleasure beating ; 
May fate withhold unblest alloy, 

Nor cloud the morn of youth so fleeting : 

While pleas'd I see those agile forms, 
Thus gambol, innocently sportive, 

I breathe a prayer that no rude storms 
May make their budding hopes abortive, 

Happy the favor'd youths, for whom 

Alone those lips shall smile so sprightly ! 

For them life's gayest flowers shall bloom, 
For them will gladness beam most brightly* 

Life's a dull dance— but stepp'd with you, 
'Twould move to notes of livelier measure | 



39 



And heavy Care would curvet, too, 
Or take the silken wings of pleasure! 

Who, that enjoy 9 d your dimply smiles, 
Would care a fig for fortune's frowning ? 

Who would not covet cares and toils, 
Which you with such rewards were crowning ? 

When grief's hard frost descends on man., 
The genial stream of life congealing, 

Such smiling charmers, only, can 
Restore the frozen heart to feeling. 



140 



THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON, 



VISITED BY A SOLDIER. 



The sun's departing beams, on Vernon's hill, 

Shone dim and pale, while 'midst the cheerless gloom 

A solemn silence reign'd — all hush'd, and still-r- 
A dusky shade o'erspread the Hero's Tomb. 

Shrunk with the frosts of age, and plainly clad, 
A grey-hair'd vet'ran on his staff reclin'd, 

His full breast heaving, and his visage sad— 
An hallowed tear departed worth enshrin'd. 

" Death!" he cried, "what has thy fury done! 
Bereav'dfair Freedom of her favorite son! 
Laid low the form which shone so bright in arms, 
The heart which fear'd not battle's dire alarms; 
The mind whose power unchain'd a fetter'd world ; 
An arm whose strength a nation's vengeance hurl'd; 
Swept from the earth at one distressing blow, 
The freeman's pride, the daring despot's foe ! 

" Hither, Memory! fly on hasty wing, 
Thy brightest tints, thy choicest pencils bring ; 
Pourtray his form, in battle's dread array, 



iii scenes of blood, of slaughter, and dismay s 
Imparting fire to each desponding heart, 
Facing, undaunted, death's promiscuous dart ; 
Trace him when liberty in hopeless grief, 
Look'd on each side, and saw no kind relief; 
When hostile armies swept our native land, 
And ruin hover'd o'er our hapless band ; 
When pale Columbia, wretched and forlorn, 
Saw threat'ning clouds obscure her earliest mom ;" 
Her sun seem'd verging to the gloom of night, 
No friendly star to greet her aching sight- 
When lo ! propitious, from the trembling crowd., 
The Hero rose, and pierc'd the gath'ring cloud ; 
From hostile snares, her war-worn ranks he led, 
He nerv'd each heart, and rais'd each drooping headj 
Thro' thick'ning dangers a htrw'd klo r^ F id waj," 
And led his armies to a brighter day. 
And ! pourtray him, when in dire distress, 
Few rags had we our shivering limbs to bless ; 
Oppressed with hunger, cold, fatigue, and woe 3 
We feebly march'd to meet the hardy foe ; 
His name reviv'd the half-extinguish'd flame, 
And urg'd anew our country's lawful claim ; 
By his example, by his courage taught, 
Distress, and want, and hunger, we forgot; 



142 



Fir'd by his zeal, who danger thus despis'd, 

We sought that Liberty so highly priz'd ; 

From field to field by him obedient led, 

Our arms, victorious, o'er the region spread, 

Till conquer'd foes unsheath'd the sword no more, 

And Freedom's banner wav'd on blest Columbia's shore, 

" And O ! methinks his form I still espy, 
Where cannons roar, and hissing bullets fly, 
Forming his ranks to meet the pressing foe, 
Whilst at each word he speaks, our bosoms glow 
With ardent heat, swift to the charge we fly, 
For Liberty, to conquer, or to die ! 

" Alas ! the dream is gone—the vision fled ! 
And all his laurels crown a lifeless head ! 
He's gone ! no more the conquering sword to wield, 
No more in arms to grace the warlike field. 
What muse hath power to paint my heart-felt grief? 
Where shall the orphan soldier find relief? 
Oh patriot shade ! accept a vet'ran's tear, 
The sad effusion of a grief sincere ; 
Accept the tribute, which, unfeign'd, I give, 
Which consecrates thy tomb, and bids thy memory live." 



143 

Thus, by warm affection won, 

Mourn'd fair Fieedom's aged son ; 

Tears o'eriiow'd his manly eye, 

While his bosom heav'd the sigh, 

For Washington, his peer ent, friend, and guide, 

The world's example, and his country's pride. 

When lo ! a form m sable robes array 'd, 

Advanc'd majestic, thro' the dusky shade, 

A gloomy sorrow o'er her visage spread, 

And wreaths of yew-tree xrown'd her beauteous 

head. 
'Twas Liberty, whose kind propitious hand, 
Strews her sweet gifts, to bless our happy land. 

"Yes, honor'd chief," she cried, "thy laurels still 
shall bloom, 
When time's destroying hand in ruin lays thy tomb ; 
Thro' long succeeding years, thy memory shall survive, 
In every heart exist, in every bosom live. 
His deathless name shall sound, till time shall cease 

to be, 
.Who broke a tyrant's chain — who set a nation free'" 

January 19th , 1800. 



ELEGY 

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG STUDENT* 

Muse ! breathe the solemn dirge o'er Henry's tomb! 

Departed merit claims the pensive lay ; 
While sacred friendship mourns his faded bloom, 

The lost companion of a happier day ! 

Behold, O Death ! thy youthful victim lies 

Where morning suns shall greet his eyes no more ! 

For him, nor spring's perfume, nor summer skies, 
Can yield those raptures which they gave before ! 

Why point thy vengeance on his guiltless head, 
On him, whose heart no sinful pleasures knew— 

Who in the paths of vice ne'er learn'd to tread, 
In whose mild breast the kindred virtues grew? 

Go, seek the vault where hapless maniacs dwell, 
Where human misery broods in darkest shade, 

Go, make thy visit to some gloomy cell, 

Where haggard wretches hourly call thy aid. 

There, pale Misfortune's victims shall rejoice, 

And bless the power which bade their torments end. 



145 



With sudden rapture greet thy hollow voice, 
And to thy will in glad submission bend. 

But ah ! 'tis thy delight to pierce the heart, 

Where meek-eyed virtue holds her placid reign, 

'Tie thy delight to hurl the unerring dart 

At those great souls who fear no earthly pain. 

Thus falls the rose beneath the Spoiler's hand, 

While meaner blossoms live, untouch'd, unsought I 

The noblest trees beneath the axe must bend, 

While knotted trunks with age must droop and rot! 

Ah ! hapless victim of untimely death, 
What happy prospects thy fond fancy drew ! 

What cheerful raptures warm'd thy youthful breath, 
While scenes of bliss were opening to thy view ! 

The Muse in thee beheld her darling swain, 
And Genius hail'd thee as his favorite son ; 

Learning enroll'd thee in her useful train — 

But death stepp'd forth— and lo ! their hopes were 
gone! 

No more, with studious labor, shaft thou pore 
O'er Virgil's leaves, or Homer's verse sublime; 
13 



146 

No more, by midnight taper, trace the lore 
Of ancient sages to remotest time. 

And ah ! no more, with me, to view the scene 
Of infant pleasures, and of mutual joy, 

Where oft, in those blest days, o'er meadows green, 
Or lofty cliff, we stray'd without annoy ! 

Alone I wander near the grove of pines, 
Whose lofty trees, aspiring, pierce the air, 

Or where Pomona's varied treasure shines, 
But all is dull — for Henry is not there ! 

The widow'd Muse with laurel decks thy tomb, 
While friendship drops, for thee, the sacred tear. 

And Genius utters (drest in deepest gloom) 
" My brightest favorite sleeps in silence here !" 

February 15th, 1800. 



147 
WILLIAM PENN, 

HIS FRIEND, AND THE JUSTICE. 

Our great friend, William Perm, 
(I don't remember when — 
But that's no matter) — 
Abroad, with his companion, met a shower ; 
For clouds regard not greatness, wealth or power ; 
And rain is seldom known to flatter. 

And after this important truth disclosing, 
I'll tell my story, without further prosing. 

Themselves and beasts — ('twas natural enough) 
They took, for shelter, to the nearest out-house- 

While th' owner, from his mansion, in a huff, 
Saw them, and fretted much about house. 

Now, he was one 
Whose brain, half done, 
Requir'd some further service from the cook ; 
So, often, on each day, 
He warm'd it, by the shortest way, 
And liquid fuel very wisely took. 

And though his boiler had at least a quart in't,. 
Enough to render any man important, 



148 

■Yet, with another circumstance elate, 
He strutted, for he was a magistrate 1 

Bloated and blowzy, 

Filthy and frouzy, 
Morose, austere, purse-proud and splenetic^ 
Irascible and phrenetic, 
Down came the self-inflated 'squire, 
And censur'd their intrusion, with much ire* 

The calm philanthropist, sedate and mild, 
Meekly observ'd him, and serenely smil'dj 
While his companion, rather nettled 
At such rebuke, the case soon settled, 

" Tho' thou may'st be a Christian in reality ; 

Thou show'st but little Christian hospitality." 
The friend no sooner this pronounc'd, 
Than the offended swaggerer bounc'd— 

" What do you mean, sir ? do you doubt 
My hospitality ? — Clear out ! 
Perhaps you do not know to whom you speak; 
I was appointed Justice, this day week!" 
"Well, said the friend (I hope that I 

Am making not too free)— 

This Governor, who standeth by, 

Maketh such tilings as thee I 



149 



MADNESS. 

Death, torture, sickness, poverty — and all 
The ills that on poor human nature fall, 
Inflict, just Heaven ! — I will be resign'd ; 
Chastise the Body — but, save the Mind ! 

Let friends prove false — let foes in triumph rise ; 
Let deafness close my ears — make blind mine eyes ; 
Crush this poor fabric — I am still resign'd ; 
But from the ruin free the tenant, Mind ! 



Let suffering children cry in vain for bread ; 
Disgrace and crime— dishonor — shroud my head ; 

Ah, no ! — I pause— let madness save this part 2 

O, scourge the immortal Mind — but spare the Heart 



150 



REFLECTIONS, 

©N SEEING THE MINIATURE OF A MARRIED LADY* 
PAINTED BY DICKINSON. 

Q, can it be ? can ivory live, 

By the creative touch of art ? 
With mortal means, can genius give 

All that can warm and bless the heart? 

Unconsciously — I know not how 

The magic comes— but whilst I view 

That lovely face, I make my bow, 
As to a living beauty clue. 

Two sins beset— I idolize, 

If thus thy image I adore ; 
If, as thou seemest to my eyes, 

Thou'rt real — I have peace no more. 

Surely that mouth can sweetly breathe- 
Surely those eyes must wink, anon— 

The glass I kiss — alFs cold beneath, 
And the belov'd illusion's gone ! 



151 



FRAGMENTS AND EXTRACTS, 



The following' lines are extracted from an Address for the 
New Year, published in the Hartford Mercury at the time 
of the date subjoined. 

Father Time overtook me, one evening of late, 

As I loung'd thro' the street, with a sauntering gait. 

By his forelock I knew him, his scythe and his glass, 

As he hasten'd beside me, intending to pass ; 

But growing ambitious, I mended my pace, 

Resolv'd, at all hazards, to venture a race ; 

He observ'd it, and turning towards me his head, 

Helax'd his stern features, and courteously said — 

*■ My lad, sure I know you ! are not you the same 

That yearly are wont to emblazon my fame ? 

Well encountered, my boy ! now I hope you'll afford, 

In my favor, next New-Year, a very good ivord. 

Give this anniversary entrance and exit 

A song of applause, for each reader expects it ! 



152 



Not I, (I replied, with a resolute tone, 

Determined to give the old fellow his own) 

Thou spoiler of beauty ! — destroyer of man ! 

Shew what praise you have earn'd, the past year, if 

you can. 

"Will Jane boast thy gifts ? no indeed, she declares 

Thou hast brought her new wrinkles, and divers grey 

hairs ; 
Mercator won't praise thee — for lately he swore 

Not a cent hadst thou added last year to his store ! 

Nor less will Decrippus complain of thy rigor, 

Who says, in twelve months thou hast stolen his vigor. 

In short, who will thank me to praise thee in rhyme, 

When all the world pouts at this terrible Time? 

Soft, soft," said the sage — "must /always endure 

The blame of those ills to yourselves you procure ? 

Does petulant Beauty tax me with the fading 

Of charms which I ripen'd ? ungrateful upbraiding ! 

The loss she had never regretted, in truth, 

Had she wisely us'd me in the bloom of her youth. 

Does commerce, diseas'd by her vices and surfeits, 

Set down to my charge what her knavery forfeits ? 

She had never found reason to blame me, depend, 

Had she honestly us'd me, when Time was her friend. 



m 



Deerippus complains too ! O fye ! never name it- 
Time lent him his vigor— may Time not reclaim it ? 

You will ask me of Europe, perhaps ; and what cause. 
She has to afford this year's Time her applause ? 
My reply is, that I am the world's best physician, 
And best can decide on the patient's condition ; 
As for Europe, her madness, and various diseases 
Much bleeding require ere the malady ceases. 

And now, I suppose, you will ask, in a pet, 
Wherein your own country to me is in debt ? 
The av'rice of trade I've not glutted, indeed, 
Nor hatch'd of new nabobs an insolent breed — ■ 
But your wandering bees I've recall 'd to their hive., 
Manufactures encourag'd — made industry thrive. 
Survey wretched Europe, 'midst havock and riot ; 
Then homeward return and be thankful and quiet ; 
Be your laws well supported — your country improv'd— ■ 
Your rights firmly held, and your liberty lov'd — 
When thus your true int'rests are well understood, 
That Time will be bless'd which prescrib'd for your- 

good." 
Well argu'd said I — " but a bar remains still — - 
The Poets, those indolent sons of the Quill, 



For love or for money won't rally their spirits 
To give me the verse that belongs to thy merits ; 
One has his name up, and he doses till noon ; 
One's fiddle's hung tip, and his harp's out of tune— 
Another, (a churl !) will not write me a line, 
For he swears 'twould be throwing his pearl to the, 
swine," 

Time reply'd, " then obtain as your countrymen 
ought, 
From your own manufacture, what should not be bought } 
If the poets, indiif'rent to fame or to pelf, 
Refuse their assistance, turn Poet yourself; 

A word of advice, now, at parting my boy ; 

In speaking of Time mind what terms you employ ; 

For when in Eternity's bottomless sea 

I'm swallow'd, as thousands were swallow'd by me, 

Then mortals will learn that the horridest crime 

They committed in life, was, abusing of Time.' j 

This said, he outstript me a mile in a trice, 

And left me alone to digest his advice. 

" What think you, my patrons, of Time's odd injunc- 
tion? 
Shall / dare assume the Poetical function ? 



155 



When so young, can I -wield the satirical lash, 
Which once made the grinders of hypocrites gnash? 
Can I, with experience so scantily stor'd, 
The deep and the rough sea of politics ford ? 
Alas, no ! I shrink — and must wait on the shore, 
Till Time shall supply me with strength to wade o'er. 
But tho' my young head lacks the harvest of years, 
Full ripe is my heart which your bounty oft cheers, 
Whatever my lot, 'tis in one thing propitious, 
I have power to afford you my hearty good wishes. 
Accept, then, my patrons, my wish most sincere, 
To find you enjoying a happy New -Year.; 
May peace at your fire-sides ever abide ; 
O'er your country may Justice and Freedom preside ; 
And while you are Heaven's choice blessings receiving? 
May you ever experience the pleasure of giving., 

Hartford, Jan. 1, 1811. 



156 



BATTLE OF ORLEANS. 

O'er miry marsh — through crackling brake, 

The Aligator's lonely path — 
Through slimy sedge, and stagnant creek, 

Slow creep the instruments of wrath. 

And come they there for honor's meed, 

For fame to fight, for glory bleed ? 

Come they for wreaths that deck the brave, 

For vict'ry, or a glorious grave ? 

Was all this perseverance shown 

For country, and for king, alone ? 

Alas, for shame ! 
Their aim was not so just ; 
Europe's "protectors," cloy'd with/ame, 
Are mov'd by avarice and lust! 

Emerging from their swampy way, 

"Wide spreads the battle line ; 
Now mark ye well that parting ray, 
For thousands view this closing day, 
• That ne'er will see another shine! 



m 

Dread silence reigns! 

3 Tis past the t midnight hour! 
The watchful guard alone remains 
Awake — except some plodding brains 

Have sleepless dreams of power. 
The soldier, long in service try'd 3 
Sleeps sound, his ready arms beside : — ■ 
He seldom yields to sorrow; 

And to reflection, never ; 
Soldier, awake ! for on the morrow. 

Perhaps, thou'lt sleep forever ! 
Rouse thee ! for yon ascending light 
Displays the signal for the fight ; 
Now think thee of the joys that wait 
Thy toils, within yon city's gate! 

And now 'tis bustle, all, — • 
The seal of secrecy is broke, 

How shrill the bugle's call. 
How swift the drummer's stroke ! 

Now to the dread assault they rush ? 
And to the siient trenches push. 

Why yet so still, behind yon mound, 
$¥hile eager vengeance hovers round? 
14 



158 

Think you they sleep ? no — wakeful, they, 
As eagles, tow'ring o'er their prey. 
Sleep they? behold that blasting flash! 
And hark ! that ear-confounding crash! 
What horrors on that thunder wait, 
Unerring as the shaft of fate ! 
Again ! how rolls the smoky volume ! 
How staggers yon distracted column. 
Now, Jackson, ply thy rifle balls, 
For desp'rate spirits mount thy walls ; 
Hark ! whence proceeds that cheering cry r 
Joy ! 'tis the shout of Victory ! 
Nay, Gibbs, prick not the victims on — - 
Thy fate is seal'd — the work is done ! 



Peace to the dead ! to those who live. 
Let this sad lesson warning give ; 
Our beauties are for their protectors ; 
Our booty, for our own collectors..* 



*A Collector, ready appointed, for New Orleans, was sent 
out with the British armv. 



159 
PEACE. 

Thus clos'd the war, upon the shore ; 

For scarce had ceas'd the battery's roar ? 

Nay, still was seen the distant smoke. 

Still echo, from the mountain, spoke, 

Of joyful peals, for vict'ry won, 

And deeds of high achievement done ; 

When, streaming o'er yon waves of blue, 

The argent flag appear'd in view. 

Hush'd now the peal, and hushed the shout — ■ 

All, save the buz of anxious doubt. 

Why ploughs that stem the shallowing Hood ? 

Comes it for evil, or for good ? 

And who are they, in friendly guise, 

O'er whom that snowy emblem flies ? 

Come they to hurl denunciations 

Of " chastisements"—" retaliations ?" 

Seek they our rulers, but to tell 'em 

Of "statu quo,- 9 and "ante helium?" 

Come they to say, in haughty tone, 

They'll make " no peace with Madison r" 

Come they to claim the Lakes, and all 

Their bays and islands, great and small ? 

Were they from England sent, to carry o'er 

The sketches of an "Indian barrier?" 



±60 

Come they to argue (all in vain) on 
Their odious terms of "sine qua non? if 
If so, they've bootless come so far, and 
May soon return from their fool's errand*, 

But no. That soul -elating cheer, 
Those beavers, flourishing in air, 
That cordial grasping of the hand, 
Those glist'ning eyes — those smiles so bland, 
More welcome tidings indicate,, 
And promise things of higher rate. 
And now the joyful cheers increase — 
Hark! 'Tis the welcome sound of PEACE I 



161 



OUR COUNTRY. 

Supposed to be the effusion of a citizen of the United States^ 
after sojourning- in Europe. 

Return we, from this gloom y view, 
To native scenes, of fairer hue, 
Land of our sires ! the Hero's home ! 
Weary, and sick, to thee we come ; 
The heart, fatigu'd with foreign woes, 
On thy fair bosom seeks repose. 
Columbia ! hope of future times ! 
Thou wonder of surrounding climes ! 
Thou last and only resting place 
Of Freedom's persecuted race ! 
Hail to thy consecrated domes ! 
Thy fruitful fields, and peaceful homes ! 
The hunter, thus, who long has toil'd 
O'er mountain rude, and forest wild, 
Turns from the dark and cheerless way, 
Where howls the savage beast of prey, 
To where yon curls of smoke aspire, 
Where briskly burns his crackling fire - ? 
Towards his cot delighted moves, 
Cheer'd by the voice of those he loves^ 
*14 



162 

And, welcom'd by domestic smiles^ 
Sings cheerly, and forgets his toils. 

No meddling foreigners embroil 
Our thriving states, nor drain our soil ; 
No false " protectors" from abroad— 
For our " Deliverer" is God I 
He gives us Victory and Peace, 
Blesses the Harvest and the Fleece- 
Prospers the Plough, the Sail, the Loom, 
And makes our wildernesses bloom. 

8 . . . Ev'n now, his all -subduing word, 
Grav'd on the Patriot's holy sword, 
Bids Independent standards rise, 
And wave, in bright Peruvian skies ; 
While light, and liberty, and truth, 
Resplendent beaming o*er the South, 
Like fire that guided IsraeFs van, 
To Freedom leads benighted man-. 



163 



ELBA. 

1 ' A shock 2 

Blasting as thunder, from that rock, 
Shakes old Vienna to its base, 
And startles Europe's royal race. 



Have I not said, no chains could bind 

The active energies of mind ? 

Have I not said, Napoleon's reign 

Existed in the hearts of men ? 

Behold the Congress, in a bustle, 

The royal plotters, how they jostle, 

And bump their heav'n anointed pates y 

In hasty scramble for their hats. 

What sudden passion they can stir up, 

The regulators of all Europe ? 

Is it an earthquake shakes their seats, 

And sets them scamp'ring to the streets ? 

Calls Beelzebub upon their names ; 

Or is the palace all in flames ? 

Nay, these are trifles, to the event 

That causes their astonishment ; 

'Tis not an earthquake's shock ; but one 

More terrible, that rocks each throne j 



164 

It is not Satan's self, that calls, 
But Castlereagh, who loudly bawls, 
" To arms, ye kings! your sabres scour up, 
Nor carve till ye've made sure, of Europe ! 
Delay not ! or there's one hard by, 
Will have a finger in your pye ; 
A carver, he, whose ready point 
Has never fail'd to hit a joint; 
Let him but once come near your dish, 
Then for a dinner you may fish. 
Nay, fumble not your empty purses ; 
Here's money — now go spur your horses I 
For France in armor has equipt her ; 
Again Napoleon wields the sceptre!" 
Napoleon ? Horror's in the name — 
But say, dear Castlereagh — how came 
This thing about f Did Bourbon not 
Make haste to quell the infernal plot ? 
Did not the French, at first alarms, 
Meet the Usurper, with their arms ? 
" Meet him with arms ? Aye, faith, well spoken \ 
They met him with their arms — wide open! 
And Bourbon did, as letters say, 
Make haste, indeed — to run away 1 
And now, a fugitive, disgrac'd, 
He claims your aid, with utmost haste." 



165 

And much, poor Louis, did'stthou need 
Their utmost strength, their promptest speed ;- 
A King, sans people ; and a sovereign 
More qualify'd to cook, than govern 5 
No subjects to defend his claim- 
Defeated, merely by a name! 
The French desired thee ! — sure enough: ! 
The French desired thee — to be off! 
While, greater in himself alone, 
Than those supported by a throne, 
An exile shews his naked breast, 
Of arms, of armies unpossest ; 
Is welcomed from his far retreat, 
And led, in triumph, to thy seat ! 

Now comes the contest, which concerns 
A King, for whom a people yearns ! 
What mighty efforts it requires 
To force them to their own desires! 
To rouse a nation from its torpor, 
That twice has chosen an " usurper ."-'" 
From regions of th' extremest north 
Now rush the countless Vandals forth : 
From Finland's gulph, from farthest Don, 
Advance the fierce barbarians on ; 
Hungarians, Saxons, Cossacks, "Russians, 
Swedes, Hanoverians, Austrians, Prussians, 



166 

Combining in one great exertion 
To overwhelm— -Napoleon's person ! f 
For, be it known to Jew and Christian, 
Poor "suff'ring France" is not in question, 
Nay, Frenchmen! take them by the hands r 
Why look so frosty on your friends ? 
I wot, they are your kind allies ; 
Your welfare's precious in thejr eyes I 
Will you not render up your chosen, 
To save the lives of many a thousand ? 
Nay, then, since you deny them still, 
They'll serve you, though against your will 
.... United Europe may exile 
His body to a distant isle ; 
But o'er the world extends his name, 
And ages cannot blot his fame! 



167 

EXTRACT 

FROM A NEWS-CARRIER'S ADDRESS, IN 1820. 

My friends, our Editor's fair Muse 
Has pouts, and threatens to refuse 
Her favors ; tho' she once was kind, 
And much I fear she's chang'd her mind ; 
Indeed, of late, so much he frets 
About his own and others 7 debts, 
And strives so hard to keep the surface, 
He's not much time to look on her face ; 
He has not leisure for much cooing, 
And she (sex-like) requires much wooing ; 
So I must your indulgence crave, 
And humbly offer what I have. 

On New Year's Eve I had a dream. 
Which he accepted as a theme; — 
While lying in a gentle dose, 
A bright Millenial scene arose ; 
The Lion with the Lamb recHn'd, 
Pigeons and Hawks together din'd ; 
Sheep, Wolves, Hounds, Hares, promiscuous ranged. 
And kind civilities exchanged ; 
Volcanoes, Earthquakes, Tempests, ceas'dj 
And sickness pain'd nor man^nor beast,; 



1158 

But Death did o'er his pris'ner creep, 
With the soft step of balmy sleep : — 

Extravagant as this might seem, 
Ev'n in the mockeries of a dream-?— • 
More wonders still ! the beasts might yield* 
Their hate, and nestle in the field ; 
The Elements might rest in peace, 
And all their dreadful warfare cease ; 
But how with man — lost, wretched man ? 
Could he be tam'd — then demons can ! 
Yes — he, too, changed his savage mind, 
And ceas'd to prey upon his kind ! 
Grim Tyranny ^forbore her yoke ; 
Intolerance her shackles broke ; 
War doff 'd his helmet ; Avarice, too, 
Unclench'd jhis hands, and generous grewj 
The Vices all from Earth were hurl'd, 
And peace and justice rul'd the world. 

Alas ! that what so blest did seem, 
Was only a delusive Dream ! 
That earth, and all it holds, is still 
A scene of strife — a world of ill ! 



169 



THE DESPOTS. 

WRITTEN IN 1816, AFTER THE ALLIES HAD FORCED THE- 
FRENCH PEOPLE TO SUBMIT TO THE BOURBONS 

»■*_.. But grow, thou vegetable king ! 

Ripen, till Time a sickle bring, 

And with one ruin overwhelm 

Thee, and the thorns that choke thy realm ! 

When that time comes, and come it must, 
For wrath will overtake th' unjust, 
Europe, awaken'd from delusion, 
Shall sorely rue this foul pollution i 



170 
EXTRACT 

FROM A NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS FOR 1821. 

Of our Editor, lately, I ask'd, as he stood 
And beating his pate, in contemplative mood, 
If he'd write me some verses for New Year — so pleasing 
As to coax out the cash without over much teazing ? 
" Write verses, indeed J" said he, staring like mad— r- 
" Think you, verses are made up like matches, my lad ?— 
Do you think, while my head is distracted with cares 
To come at my own, and to give others theirs, 
I can calm my ideas, and sit down at pleasure, 
And drill awkward words into musical measure ?" 

But, said I, only think how the loungers would growl, 
And (more terrible still) how the ladies would scowl — 
The loungers, to see a dull almanac* only, 
Without something better to cheer them when lonely, 
Would swear 'twas all nonsense their noddles to fill 
With the thoughts of that Time, which they wish'd but 

to kill— 
And to pester the ladies 'bout days, weeks and months, 
Would make me appear, in their eyes, but a dunce — 

* A Counting-House Almanac usually accompanied these 
addresses at the place where this was written. 



171 



What a flat the boy is ! they would cry, in a pet, 
To remind us of time, which we fain would forget — «• 
Consider, too, what they'll expect from your Muse- — 
(Thought I, with this sop, the man cannot refuse) — 
Why, truly, my boy, said our petulant Editor, 
You stick like a dun, and insist like a creditor — 
But I'll tell you, 'twere easier to regulate chaos, 
Than write decent verses while task'd like a dray- 
horse ; — * 
You talk of my Muse, sir — as if she Would come 
At the sound of a horn, or the beat of a drum ! 
Do you think she can bear with the knocking of duns. 
Like a harden'd camp woman, familiar with guns ? 
Do you think I have no more respect for her, sir, 
Than to send for her here to this bustle and stir ? 
Would the delicate fair one receive my addresses 
^Midst the daubing of ink and the squeaking of presses— 
'Midst the hard calculations of losses and gains, 
The biting of lips and the racking of brains ? 
^r character, sir, you judge widely amiss, 
If you think she'd accept of such wooing as this. 

But, pray, Mr. Editor, what shall I do, 
If now I am left in the lurch sir, by you ? 
Would not each subscriber soon shew me his back 
If I offer'd him only a dry almanac ? 



m 



And could you or I think it monstrously strange 
If it greatly reduced my sum total of change ? 
But suppose that in case you can do nothing neater) 
You turn what's been said to a brisk sort of metre :— *■ 

Agreed ! he exclaim'd — and away ran his quill 
As swift as it does when receipting a bill, 
He said, give them this for the present my boy, 
With your and my compliments, wishing them joy — <■ 
Assure them, next year (if 1 prosper mean-while) 
I'll endeavor to treat them in far higher style — 
And tell them (in case they find fault with my rhymes) 
I've the common apology — namely — Hard Times ! — 
. — When lo ! at that instant old Hard Times appeared* 
With lean Ian thorn jaws and a rough grisly beard — * 
Tell the people, said he, I'm the National Gout, 
Come to drive the foul humors of Luxury out — • 
Bid them see that Economy's precepts are kept £ 
But be lib'ral to Printers — that case I except I 



178 



DARTMOOR. 

WRITTEN DURING THE EXCITEMENT WHICH PREVAILED 
AFTER THE AFFAIR AT DARTMOOR PRISON. 

O England ! should'st thou e'er again, 
Force us to meet thee on the main, 
The spirit of the murder'd Tar 
Shall aggravate the invidious war ; 
Perch'd on the shroud, it will be heard, 
Loud as Macdonough's valiant bird, 
And through thy panic-stricken fleet 
Scream the shrill omen of defeat ! 



15 



174 
OUR AXtMY AND NAVY, 

Laud we the men of high renown I 
Wreaths for a Jackson and a Brown ! 
The first, not more for martial fame, 
Than force t' extinguish Faction's flame : 
The last for skill and courage known, 
Equall'd bj few — excell'd by none. 
Wreaths for a Dearbon's, Ripley's brow I 
Names, long remember'd bj the foe ; 
And last, not least, on rolls of fame, 
A Scott's, a Miller's honor'd name. 
Nor shall we pass each valiant spirit, 
In rank inferior, not in merit ; 
'Twas theirs, our Liberty to guard — 
That Liberty is their reward : 
'Tis theirs to twine, in peaceful days, 
The laurel, with the civic bays. 

Resplendent, on our Naval scroll , 
Shines a Decatur and a Hull — 
A Perry and Macbonough — these 
Fam'd for exploits on midland seas — 
Chauncey — who vainly strove to fight 
The ever-flying, recreant Kpght— - 



175 

Bainbridge and Rogers — Stewart— Jones- 

Columbia's well-deserving sons ! 

No common champion struck to these ; 

It was "the mistress of the seas!" 

Nor she alone ; but her allies 
Swell'd our proud list of victories ;* 
The blood-hounds, cherish'd and retain'd, 
In mischief rear'd, and plunder train'd, 
Europe, who their forbearance buys, 
Lacks will, or power, to chastise ; 
Not so Columbia— prompt to save, 
Lo, her proud squadron ploughs the wave ; 
Not to enthral, but to release ; 
Not to subject, but free the seas ; 
To loose the slave, and not to bind ; 
Her cause, the cause of all mankind ! 
Admiring nations gladly hail 
The true " Deliverer's" welcome sail. 
And to the flag of high repute 
Yield the gratuitous salute. 

Short is the Pirate's hopeless fight, 
Sore his chastisement, swift his flight ; 
Prompt is the restitution made, 
And costs of prosecution paid ! 

* Alluding .to. our war with Algiers, in 1815, 



176 

The neighboring pirates, struck with awe ? 
Hear and obey the cannon law, 
And set (such is the stern decree) 
Captives of various nations free, 
Of this our sons shall proudly read ; 
These are " Deliverers'" indeed ! 




■177 



ON THE SONG OF EUSTACE, IN MARMION ALLUDING TO 

THE STATE OF EUROPE IN 1823. 

"Where shall the tyrant rest. 

When power's departed— 
When Freedom rears her crest 

O'er the base hearted ? 
Earth will, reluctant, take 

What Death must give her— r 
That dust to bliss shall wake 

Never — -O, never ! 

Swift on the march of mind 

Europe is pressing- 
Man struggles hard to find- 
Liberty's blessing. 
Freedom's bright flag shall spread^ 

To be furl'd never ! 
Over the Patriot's head 
Waving forever ! 



ITS 

Where shall the Despot rests 

Scorn'd by his legions ? 
Where be a welcome guest ? 

Not in these regions. 
Scorn at his grave shall point. 

Mocking forever — 
Him shall man re -anoint 

Never — 0, never ! 

Where shall the tyrant lief 

When life's departed ? 
Who o'er his bier shall sigh ? 

Not the true-hearted ! 
Shame on his tomb shall sit ? 

Brooding forever ! — 
Laurel's shall honor it s 

Never^-Oj never. 



179 



EPITAPH, 

@N A DECEASED FEMALE FRIEND* 

-Oo, well prepared tlij kindred saints to join- 
Society congenial as divine — 
"While we, less worthy, in probation strive 
At thy supreme perfection to arrive : — ■ 

Meantime, thy bright example's cheering ray, 
Like Israel's pillar, leads us on the way, 
To better worlds illumes our path o'er thisj 
^And, through a lucid \ista, guides to bits®. 



180 



THE KJND NEIGHBOR. 

Who is there whom sickness and pain have assail'd, 
"When strength has departed, and fortitude fail'd, 
But remembers, with kindness, the cherishing hand, 
The encouraging voice and the countenance bland, 
Of the good patient nurse who your anguish has sooth'd 9 
Who has watch'd for your comfort, your pillow has 

smootlvd, 
Administer'd drugs, your diseases assuaging, 
And bath'd your hot temples when fever was raging ? 

If those we admire, who thus comfort their patients, 
We should fervently love those who nurse reputations ; 
Who watch for our characters, cautious and wary, 
Volunteers, though ambitious, yet not mercenary 5 

5? -Z- "* « * * 

Now if, in bodily diseases, 
Gratuitous attention pleases, 
Surely, our warmest gratitude should lean 

Towards those kind ones, whose incessant labors 
Are exercis'd, with vigilance most keen, 

To guard the morals of their careless neighbors. 
This sage remark reminds us of Miss Tabitha, 
(Whose kindness of this sort was very fervent)— 



181 



Discovering, through her window blinds, one sabbath, a 
Splendid establishment, with many a servant, 
Her spectacles she quickly mounted, 
And all the various items counted, 
Of master, mistress, children, waiters, 
Baggage — dogs — -horses — and all creatures. 

We know that many others 

Of Tabitha's ripe age, 
Besides aunts, uncles, mothers, 
Sisters and cousins, fathers, brothers, 
Their kind attentions to engage, 
Have sometimes younger darlings of their own; 
But this good maid, as such, of course had none : 
And lucky it was 
For many ; because 
She could not so well, amidst family cares, 
Regulate and adjust other people's affairs ! 

Not for the world would I insinuate 

That the fair lady kept her single state 
For want of offers — no ; sincerely, 
? Twas for the good of neighbors merely. 

Now, the next thing she had to do, 
Was to discover who was who, 
16 



182 



And first she found that one of mind congenial 

To hers, had the command of every menial ; 

The housekeeper, a widow, prim and staid, 

With whom our busy, antiquated maid 

Soon made acquaintance ; and in course of chat 

Discovered the important secret, that 

The master was a foreign nobleman ; and then 

Which was the lady's maid, and which his lordship's 

man ; 
And this and that were such and such— - 
Which tended to the purpose much ; 

But not enough for her desire ; 
It is not now and then a trifle 
That can the flaming temper stifle, 

When curiosity's on fire. 

So, from her opp'site chamber, darken'd, 
Quite unperceiv'd, she look'd and hearkened, 

Determin'd to inspect their morals ; 
And find out what their habits were, 
If bold licentious doings there 

Were practis'd, or domestic quarrels. 

At length her tender modesty was wounded, 

And her keen sense of decency confounded % 

She scarcely could the shame bear ! 



.83 



She plainly saw, with infinite distress, 
The valet and the lady's maid undress, 
In the same chamber ! ! ! 

When this appalling fact she learn'd, 
Her palpitating bosom yearn'd 

With laudable impatience ; 
And she resolv'd next day to go 
And let his worthy lordship know 

Of such abominations ! 

As early as she could with due decorum, 

She gain'd access, and laid the fact before him ; 

Care for the honor of his house professing ; 
Indeed, but for a neighborly regard, 
She would not (so she blushingly declared) 

Have ventur'd on a duty so distressing. 

Thanks, madam ! — with a smile his lordship said ; 
They're marry'd — tho' she's still called lady's maid 

I am a stranger, and I know not whether 
Our customs are like yours, with man and woman ; 
But in my country, it is not uncommon, 

For man and wife to go to bed together ! 



184 



DOUBLE PENITENCE, 

Excess of turtle soup and wine 

Outrag'd my pastor's conscience — 

Repent you, said the good divine, 
This wickedness and nonsense ! 

Repentance, too, implies reform, 

And abstinence from evil ; 
Then bear up, friend, against the storm 

That drifts thee tow'rd the devil* 

This grave advice (assisted by 

Some inward indications) 
I took — nor afterwards did I 

Indulge old inclinations. 

Said he, one day, your penitence 

Will free you from all trouble- 
Not quite, said I> for in one sense 
My penitence is double ! 

How s.q ?- Why, when I pass and view 
Your board, with lux'ries scented, 

Sometimes, dear sir, indeed > I do 
Repent that I repented !. 



185 



PRIDE AND POVERTY. 

Two gentlemen, whose copious wealth, 

And, consequently, leisure, 
Permitted them to ride for health, 

Or for their pleasure, 

On a slow journey having lounged 
Through verdant and luxuriant landj 

To their surprise, abruptly plunged 
Into a barren waste of sand. 

This occupied no trifling space ; 
Yet all around its pallid face 
"Were thrifty groves and pastures seen, 
And meadows, cloth'd in lively green ; 

Like curls of hair, that still array 
Themselves around the face of clay ; 
Or constant evergreens, that grow, 
Surrounding dreary fields of snow. 

Sjc ifr "& 'ns * 

Our travellers, somewhat amaz'd s 
Halted, and o'er the desart gaz'd ; 
*16 



186 

Whether an earthquake (some uncommon one) 

Had been concern'd in this phenomenon, 

Or whether this, or that, or t'other 

Had blemish'd thus our common mother, 

If by alluvion, or concussion-— 

Were the main questions in discussion. 

Now it so happen'd, that, where they 
Were contemplating in this way, 
A wretched hovel show'd its shabby form, 
A rude and scanty shelter from the storm, 
Rais'd on a little knoll, where scanty groups 
Of herbage, had allur'd a poor man's hopes, 
To coax coy nature some small crop to yield, 
And vouch a pittance to his little field. 

This man, tho' poor, had yet a spice of pride, 
Not seldom to the humblest lot allied ; 

And anxious lest the strangers might suppose 

That he this spacious poverty inherited, 
Through a small crevice he put forth his nose, 
And thus accosted them, in manner spirited 

" Good gentlemen, I easily can guess 
Your subject, and your mutual opinion ; 

You think, without a doubt, that I possess 
O'er all this plain full title and dominion ; 



187 

I am not wealthy, to be sure, 
But still I am not quite so poor ! 

This waste, that brings no profit — 
This wretched sandy barren, 
I have but little share in ; 

I own but half an aere of it 1" 



188 



THE EXILE. 

Not to Siberia's land of frost 
"Was this devoted exile sent; 

Nor Java's pestilential coast — 
Severer was his banishment. 

Nought could the moral world afford 
To give him comfort, joy or rest ; 

The ban his vices had incurr'd 

Conscience approv'd within his breast; 

The victim of a tyrant's power, 

Condemn'd in distant climes to roam s 

May sometimes find a happy hour, 
In hopes of pardon and of home. 

But what bright hour on him shall beam, 
Who, bearing an internal curse, 

Is banish'd from his own esteem, 
To burning regions of Remorse ? 



189 



DEMONSTRATION. 

I most highly approve of the theory now 
Which the faculty still out of pride disavow, 
That in certain complaints you may give a man rest 
By applying a dove's or a chicken's warm breast. 

Though some may pronounce it an old woman's notion, 
It is better by far than a blister or potion ; 
I know — for I've try'd — that 'twill heal the keen smart 
Which is felt in a certain disease of the heart. 

Sophia, though slow in avowing her love, 
Was civil enough — -anti I call'd her my Dove ; 
But the pain of suspense gave me exquisite anguish, 
Though pride would not suffer my spirits to languish^ 

At length, in a moment of tenderness won, 
Her love she confess'd in a faltering tone ; 
I press'd the dear Dove to my breast, and the pain 
Subsided, and never disturb'd me again* 



190 



RESIGNATION AND PRAISE. 

H ab akkuk — iii — 1 7 . 

What though the fig-tree fails to bloom, 
The vineyard, too, its fruit denies— 

The olive barren has become, 
And the expected harvest dies — 

What though the bleating, fleecy race 
Appear no more in pastures green ; 

What though, in their allotted place 
The lowing kine no more are seen — ■ 

Yet, though the treasures of the land 
Are swept by the commanding rod, 

I'll bow beneath the chastening hand, 
I know it is the hand of God ! 

Still, in his mercy, he reserves 

Riches, surpassing human thought ; 

Wealth, more than sinful man deserves, 
Wealth that can not be sold or bought. 

Then gratefully I'll taise my voice 

To Him, omnipotent to save, 
In His Salvation I'll rejoice, 

His promis'd bliss beyond the grave, 



19i 



THE KING AND THE ARTIST. 

A king, affected by an artist's death, 
Who in his arms had drawn his final breath, 
Wept, till Suspicion in the court began 
To whisper, he was little more than man ! 

A nobleman, on royal bounty fed, 
Like a true veteran sycophant, thus said— 
" I grieve, your majesty, to see this woe ; 
-Can a mere painter's fate afflict you so ?" 

Slave ! said the king — mere painter, did you say ? 
I can^make nobles, like you, every day ; 
But God alone the genius can bestow, 
Whish animated, once, that clay-cold brow* 



192 



IMAGINATION. 

Imagination ! thou art like a horse 

That runs away forever with his master, 

And when an effort's made to check his course, 
Grasps bits between his teeth, and runs still faster. 

Well, if thou wilt run — then, here goes, 

Leave, if thou canst, all care behind ; 
Increase thy speed to pass my foes ; 

Still more my scatter'd friends to find. 

Bear me to scenes of former days, 
Where childhood still, in memory, plays; 
Then turn, where recollection sees 
Youth's fruit, just ripening on the trees ; 
Bear me to all that is ideal, 
But leap o'er Manhood — that's too real ! 
Forward to Age, if breath permits, 
See there if thou canst champ thy bits — 
Go on, if still thou wilt not stop — 
I'll warrant, Death will bring thee up ! 



193 



MODEST MODESTY. 

Says Jane (with envy ill suppress'd 

And by her bridling air confessed) 

I wonder what our friends discover 

In Clara, that they thus should love her ? 

She is a careless, forward romp, 
Forever prone to laugh and jump, 
Indeed, her beauty none denies — 
But Modesty is what I prize, 

Almira answer'd, somewhat dryly, 
With cast of eye directed slyly— 
And by an argument (the oddest 
You can conceive) prov'd Clara modest. 

Bear Jane, I hope you will not pout ; 

I, as your friend, presume to say it— 
Clara has Modesty, no doubt — 

JBut she's too modest to display it. 



17 



194 
THE RULING PASSION, 

OR, THE FORCE OF HABIT. 

A gamester, fond of wagers, but no dunce, 
Sent for a doctor, in his illness, once, 

Who, sorely griev'd his patient's nerves to shock. 
Said, if my true opinion I must give, 
My friend, I am convinc'd you cannot live 

Beyond tomorrow morning, eight o'clock, 

The invalid, who could not even lisp, or 
Exalt his voice above a whisper, 

Beckon'd the doctor, when retiring ; 
"Who came again to his bed-side ; 
The patient said (and faintly sigh'd) 

" Beyond all doubt I am expiring ; 

But since you are so positive 

About this case of mine, 
What ivill you bet I do not live 
'f ill nine ?" 



195 
SOMEWHERE, 

OR, THE RETORT COURTEOUS* 

A gentleman, alone with starch Miss Prim, 
(Whose character he did not much admire) 
For talk's sake, as he silently sat by her, 

She, in affected manner, said to him, 

TS Sir, since I luckily have come where 
I thus have met your face once more, 
I will observe that, once before, 

If I mistake not, I have seen you somewhere." 

s Tis very likely, Miss, he coldly said, 

(Not much inclin'd the interview to soften, 

But wishing further answer to evade) 
* 
*Tis likely — for I've been there very often. 



196 



THE SEA SERPENT'S SOLILOQUY 

While, harmless, in mine element, I lave 
My vermile form, and stem the briny wave, 
Or doze supinely on the calm expanse, 
What various forms across my course advance ! 
Now a huge fish its lofty wings displays, 
And from its side emits the lightning's blaze ; 
Now comes another, of inferior size, 
Her sides unfurnish'd with such flashing eyes ', 
And here is one, with feelers well supply'd^ 
Heaving my dainty mack'rel o'er her side ! 
And here again some wingless ones, that sweep, 
With slender fins, the surface of the deep. 
Well, let them pass — and if a war they wage ; 
My agile movements can evade their rage ; 
Among the sub -marine apartments I 
In coral groves or rocky caves can lie, 
Coil'd safely in the ocean's bosom, where 
The busy rogues may follow, if they dare I 

Now for a nap, while quietly I reach 
My form beside Nahant's delightful beach- 
But what is this comes roaring, smoking by S 
I must present my magnifying eye I 



197 



It is the oddest fish, upon my word, 

That ever on the face of ocean stirr'd ! 

And on its back strange animals are seen, 

Some white, some black, some yellow, and some green ; 

Such lovely creatures, all so fresh and fair ! 

I'm tempted to devour them, I declare ! 

Now, at a second glance, I plainly view 

Others, with sable backs ; and some with blue, 

And when I look again, with much surprise, 

I see their breasts adorn'd with yellow eyes ; 

Fire in their mouths, and smoke around their gills 5 

Though often each his mouth with liquor fills, 

Yet still I see the unextinguished fires ; 

More frequently the curling smoke aspires! 

And now they ramble, on the neighboring shore, 
And blaze and vapor pain my sight once more ! 

I see the struggles of my vassal fish ! 

I smell their flavor in the steaming dish ! 
Why all this labor ? poor dependent things ! 

Tell whence this formal toil and trouble springs ? 

I pity ye, poor rogues, who can't, like me, 

At leisure dine upon them in the sea ! 

How happy were ye, if the smaller fry 

Ye could devour as readily as I ! 

*17 



198 



Yet who knows but, amongst yourselves, ye do ? 
As readily, as ravenously too ? 

More fire and smoke ! and something odd, beside ? 
Comes ratt'ling, tick'ling, glancing on my hide ; 
This, to a noble fish, is rude enough ! 
Nothing but fire and smoke is here — I'm. off! 
And 'midst the icebergs, where my brethren dwell. 
My wonderful adventures I may tell ; 
But their credulity it may outreach, 
Though none my truth did ever yet impeach, 
Yet they may still reluctantly believe 
That such strange animals on earth can live* 



199 
THE DAWN OF SABBATH, 

IN THE CITY. 

Once more the hour, delightfully serene, 
Arrives, when clamorous noise disturbs me not ; 
When the rude din of business is hush'd ; 
When worldly bustle is no longer heard ; 
When thousands sleep, unconscious and unseen'j 
Leaving the world to nature and to me. 

How indolently opes the eye of day ; 
How dim and dusky is its early ray S 

As the fond infant, waken'd from sweet rest., 
Breathes tender whispers o'er the parent breast ; 
So, in their softest notes, the feather'd throng 
Salute their mother earth with gentlest song. 

How solemn, yet how sweet this silence seems, 
While all around me sleep, or fret with dreams ; 
While Pride and Bigotry alike recline, 
While Avarice and Malice lie supine. 

While from all human observation free, 

How sweet, my Maker, to commune with thee I 



200 

Now, on the borders of the scattered clouds, 
The purple tints announce the advancing day— 
Now on the gilded vanes the mellow gleams 
Of light appear, as heralds of the sun. 

A solitary footstep echoes now 
Through the long street — the holy calm is o'er j 
Let me retire, ere some poor slave of vice, 
With feverish countenance, shall pain my eyes ; 
Or, what is worse, ere the cold hypocrite, 
With freezing apathy, shall cross my path, 
And quench the warmth that animates my heart. 



INDEX 



PAGE 



New-Engiand -.--_„-- 13 

Mr. Cricket -.-„.--_ 25 

The Vacant Chair 32 

The Hypochondriac Cured - - - - - 36 

Address to Spring- - - - - s - - - 37 

Real Beauty -----*..- 39 

Address of the Whale to Gas ----- 40 

Verse in Dishabille ------- 42 

The Quarrels of Love - \ 44 

To a Friend -------- 46 

What is it? - - 49 

Mercy ----------- 50 

Best Cure for Trouble - - - - - - 52 

The Female Martyr 53 

The Tormentor -- - - - - - - 59 

Mortality and Immortality - - - - - 61 

The Devil Fishing- 62 

The Wilderness ------- 65 

The Modest Retort ------- 66 

Lines on a Charity School ----- 68 

Ode to Vanity 69 

Lines to Stella. 71 

Piracy 7'2 

The Pleasures of Winter - 74 

The Trial of Time - 75 

Solitude - . 80 

True Glory 81 

Love and Reason - 83 

Striped Bunting- ------- 85 

Dreaming and Waking ------ 87 

To an Affected Heiress 88 

Lines to a young Lady, too fond of dress - - - 90 

New Year's Reflections - 92 

To my Pen 95 



INDEX. 

Affectation Rebuked - - - - - 98 

Platonic Love -------- 99 

€are - - - 101 

The Ruins --------- 106 

Where can it be ? - ■ - - - - - - 108 

The Journey of Life ------ 110 

Give no Handle - - - - - 113 

The Winter's Night ------- 114 

Lines in behalf of a Lover - •— " - 116 

The Sailor - 118 

American Tribute - - - - - - 120 

The Treble Voice ------- 123 

Love and Lust -'.-.- 125 

Death of Love - - 127 

The Generous Negro - 128 

Fragment -- - - - - - - 130 

The Spies -------- 134 

Mental Beauty -------- 135 

Sports of Female Youth ------ 138 

The Tomb of Washington - - - - - 140 

Elegy 144 

William Penn, his Friend and the Justice - - 147 

Madness - - 149 

Reflections on a Picture 150 

Fragments, &c. 151,156,159,161,163,167,169,170,173.174 

Parody 177 

Epitaph -.--.- 179 

The Kind Neighbor ------- 180 

Double Penitence - - - - - - 184 

Pride and Poverty ------- 185 

The Exile -.-'-".'-.•■ i88 

Demonstration - - -■« - - - - 189 

Resignation and Praise ------ 190 

The King and the Artist - - - - - 191 

Imagination _-- 192 

Modest Modesty _.----- 193 

The Ruling Passion ------- 194 

Somewhere 195 

The Sea Serpent's Soliloquy - - - - 19 6 

The Dawn of Sabbath ------ 199 



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